#i think the only one that sounds the most like midnights to me is probably suburban legends but even that doesn’t fit midnights’ vibe

[likeimsittinginanairportbar]

maturing is realizing that the 1989 tv vault tracks actually all fit the whole album’s vibe and sound perfectly and actually don’t sound like midnights vault tracks like swifties were saying when they first came out but that’s just me ig

[guiltyasdave]

like snow on the beach

pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

word count: ~2.8k

summary: You're on a work trip with your boss, who you don't like and who you're convinced doesn't like you either. Unfortunately, there's only one bed.

tags/warnings: only one bed trope (ayyyy), fluff, idiots in love, alternating povs, reader has hair that drips down her neck after showering at one point but there are no texture or color descriptors, able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, my nonexistent knowledge of colombian geography which i'm asking you to ignore for the sake of this silly story THANK YOU

a/n: my entry for the summer lovin' challenge brought to us by queens @pedgito, @chaotic-mystery and @amanitacowboy <3 i got the moodboard you see in the header and the location by the water. i'm also posting a little early but i'm too excited and it's almost midnight here so i think it's gonna be fine hehe

biggest love to @sizzlingcloudmentality who held my hand through writing this and patiently listened to all my complaints lol. i love drinking more caffeine than pedro and writing with you while getting distracted by cats <3

dividers by @plum98!

find my full masterlist here and follow @guiltyasdavenotifs to get notified when i post a new fic :)

You’re hot, too hot. 

It’s disorienting, as you blink awake, slow to get your bearings. Arms are wrapped around you, caging you in, engulfing you in the warmth of the body pressed against your back. Hot air is fanning against your neck, accompanied by a scratching sensation on the sensitive skin. 

Your surroundings are unfamiliar, faded wallpaper in an unappealing shade of green and light filtering in through the battered up blinds. It comes back to you in pieces, the motel you’re staying at, the small Colombian town where you’re hoping to get a hold of one of the Cali cartel men. 

The obnoxious scent of Peña’s aftershave is flooding your nostrils, paired with the traces of tobacco that follow him everywhere he goes. It’s honestly embarrassing, how easily you recognize it.

It clicks into place now. The arms around you, the warmth. The scratch that you now realize is his mustache as he’s breathing against your neck.

You start wriggling around, causing the man behind you to stir, a confused groan coming out slightly muffled, his mouth still so close to your skin. He lets go of you after a second, allowing you to turn around and glare at him. 

His face is already forming his signature annoyed scowl, an expression that you’re more than well acquainted with.

“What the hell are you doing?!” 

He sounds different like this, voice still thick with sleep, a hint of the disorientation that you’ve shaken off by now. 

“What am I doing? I woke up with your arms around me, Peña.” 

He blinks, shifting to sit up and lean against the headboard. You mirror him, putting as much space between you as the rather small bed frame allows. 

“Sorry,” he allows after a beat, running a hand through his hair, tousling the mess of black strands that has formed in his sleep. “That wasn’t… appropriate. I apologize.” 

If you weren’t as annoyed right now, you’d probably think that he looks adorable like this. The you from a few months ago would most likely go wild at seeing Javier Peña right after waking up, after he held you in his arms no less. 

The you from a few months ago hadn’t experienced what an asshole of a boss he could be yet, hadn’t been taken off investigations again and again, because Peña thought you weren’t ready. She also hadn’t heard about his terrible reputation with women, hadn’t been subjected to all the office gossip that surrounded him yet. 

Now, after days of practically begging him to take you along on this trip because the whole investigation was based on information that you had gathered, you’re stuck in this motel room with him. Something about your booking of two single rooms accidentally having been processed as one double room, with no other rooms available because of course there weren’t. 

Peña had offered to sleep on the ground, or in the car, but you had waved him off, thinking about how often he had complained how his back was getting worse the older he got on the drive here. You hadn’t expected to wake up to him all but wrapped around you. 

Maybe a small, very small part of you is still going wild about it. A part that you can easily swallow down though. He’s objectively attractive, yes. Doesn’t change the fact that he’s an asshole.

“Just forget it,” you mumble, heat rising belatedly in your cheeks. Gathering your clothes for the day, you flee to the bathroom, eager to wash the whole decidedly weird situation off your body and out of your mind. You’re here because you have a job to do, not to get flustered around your boss. 

When you reemerge, wet strands of your hair dripping down your neck, he’s already dressed, clasping his hands in a way that almost seems nervous. If you weren’t pretty convinced that Javier Peña isn’t physically able to get nervous. 

“I– I’m really sorry,” he repeats, raising from the worn down arm chair he’s been sitting in. “I didn’t mean to put you in an uncomfortable position. I’m not– I’m not exactly used to sharing a bed.”

A scoff leaves you at that. Sure, Agent Peña, who’s notorious for sleeping with his informants and with at least half of the female staff of the American embassy, isn’t used to sharing his bed. 

“Don’t worry about it, Peña.” 

You turn away before he can reply, collecting your notes on the investigation that you hope will come in helpful eventually. You don’t catch the remorseful look in his eyes, or the way they linger on you as you open the door, the early morning light illuminating your figure.

It’s another day filled with nothing but waiting and growing frustration, just like the one before. The sun is beating down on the car that you’re occupying, the heat suffocating even with the windows rolled down and the cool bottle of water that you’re pressing against your neck.

Minutes tick by, turning into hours that go by too quickly and seem to last forever at the same time. Peña is surprisingly quiet, not goading you in the way you had expected him to. 

“Maybe the information was bad,” you mumble eventually, sinking deeper into the car seat. The leather is sticking uncomfortably to your skin and you can’t shake the growing feeling that you’ve insisted on coming out here for nothing.

He slowly turns his head in your direction, regarding you through the dark tint of his aviators. 

“I looked at it. We wouldn’t be here if it was bad.” 

You huff, your patience running short and shorter at the subtle indication of his superiority, his quiet arrogance, always so fucking sure of himself.

“You weren’t exactly thrilled about coming here, remember?”

He raises a brow, a hint of impatience on his own features.

“I wasn’t thrilled about you coming here.” 

You roll your eyes, openly scowling at him now. 

“It’s my intel.”

“Doesn’t make it less dangerous, does it?” 

Biting your lip, you force your blood to not boil over. He’s still your boss, at the end of the day, someone you probably shouldn’t start cussing out, no matter how openly he underestimates you and how badly it annoys you. And you’re gonna have to share that wretched bed with him again tonight. 

Javier watches your face, watches you swallow down your anger, watches your teeth digging into your plush bottom lip. He understands your frustration, understands that no part of this trip is turning out the way you expected it to. 

You’re still new to the workfield, not yet experienced with the hours upon hours of waiting, more often than not without a satisfying result to show for it. If he’s being honest with himself, he isn’t mad about it this time. He’ll rather have you frustrated than in danger. 

You want to prove yourself, you’ve made that abundantly clear. You work hard, determined to bring in results, hungry for praise. It’s not that he doesn’t see that, doesn’t think that you’re capable. But he’s seen enough, enough injuries, enough psychological trauma, enough deaths, to know that he wants you far away from that side of your work. 

Even if that means you’re angry at him more often than not, a glint of bitterness in your eyes every time he refuses to send you out yet again. 

After another few hours, accompanied by the increasing rumbling in both your stomachs, he finally calls it quits for the day. 

“We can drive back to Bogotá tomorrow,” he quietly offers on the way back to the motel, after picking up food for the both of you and refusing to let you pay for your share. “Gather more information, see why we didn’t find anything.”

You huff in return, irritated about the whole situation. The one chance you had to convince him to take you seriously, and this is what you get. “Fine,” you agree, gritting your teeth. Maybe your intel was bad. Maybe you just aren’t that good at your job.

“Keep to your side of the bed tonight,” you grumble later, after the bored woman at the reception told you that there still aren't any other rooms available. 

“Of course,” he sighs, sliding under the covers with the biggest possible distance from you.

You nod, closing your eyes and willing for sleep to take you, but it’s a losing game. You toss and turn, feeling both too hot and too cold at the same time, unable to find a comfortable position and to get the voices in your head to shut up. 

When you roll over yet again, his voice rings through the dark, somewhat agitatedly asking what’s wrong. 

“Nothing,” comes your frustrated reply, pressing your face deeper into the cushion, your eyes squeezed shut. After a few more breaths and zero sign of your brain slowing down, you turn towards him, only able to make out his silhouette in the dark. Your judgment is probably hazy with how tired you are, but the words are out of your mouth before you can think them over.

“Can I ask you a question, Agent Peña?” 

“Javier is fine.” 

Your heart gives a tiny flutter, despite your conflicted feelings about him, despite the question that you’re about to ask. 

“Why do you not like me?” 

It’s inappropriate, especially right now, lying in the dark and sharing a fucking bed with him. But you think that if you don’t ask now, you probably never will, and you need to know. 

“Why would you think that I don’t like you?” 

You huff, squinting at him. “It’s pretty obvious. You don’t trust my work, you never send me to go out, dismiss my intel most of the time–” 

It’s silent for a long time, safe for his quiet breaths. 

“That’s not–” He sighs deeply, turning his head towards you as well. “That’s not true. You’re making it about yourself when you shouldn’t. I treat you exactly like your colleagues, you’re the one taking it personal.” 

It’s curt, dismissive. Laced with carefully feigned indifference, bordering on coldness. Too carefully. You didn’t think he’d lie to you if you asked him this directly, but here you are. 

Blinking back angry tears, you roll onto your back again, unseeingly staring at the ceiling. You don’t understand why it hits you like this. You’ve had shitty bosses before, far worse than Peña. You’ve just never wanted them to like you the way you want him to. 

“Good night, Agent Peña.” You turn onto your other side, your back towards him. 

“Good night,” comes his solemn reply. 

You don’t wake up with his arms around you again, thankfully, but he hasn’t exactly kept to his side of the bed either. One hand is curled over your shoulder, like he had to reach out and hold onto you in his sleep. 

You’re the one taking it personal. 

Clearly he hasn’t been reaching for you specifically. It’s probably just second nature for him, something that usually goes well with the women sharing his bed. 

You’re able to shake his hold off without waking him up, something that you’re grateful for. 

When he wakes and repeats how he thinks you should abandon the investigation, you don’t argue. It’s a quiet affair, packing up and getting ready to leave. 

Sitting in the driver’s seat, he turns to you, his brow furrowed into that moody expression you’ve gotten used to. “I’ve been thinking,” he begins, eyeing you warily. “We’re not far from the ocean right now. Have you been to the beach since you came to Colombia?” 

You raise an eyebrow in mild suspicion, curious where he’s going with this. 

“I haven’t been out of Bogotá since I landed there. But–” 

His eyes grow softer, his hand twitching like he almost reached out towards you. 

“No buts. At least then it won’t have been a total waste of time to come here, right?” 

The dig towards you, towards the reason you drove all the way out here for nothing isn’t lost on you. You don’t have it in you to argue against it, so you just nod, staring straight ahead. 

Javier realizes how badly you misunderstood his words as soon as they’re out of his mouth and he sees your face. He doesn’t know how he consistently manages to fuck up his interactions with you like this. It’s not him, the blundering, the words constantly coming out all wrong, but you make him nervous in a way that he hasn’t experienced in years. 

He starts driving, hopeful to somehow still be able to turn this trip around. There’s a whole day on the road ahead of them, and he’d much rather spend those hours without feeling like he’s made you hate him. 

You do soften at the sight of the ocean, the sound of waves rolling against the shore having a soothing effect almost instantly. It’s beautiful, the water a brilliant blue, the sun glittering on the surface. You can’t be mad right now, not even at Javier, who’s keeping his distance, letting you wander along the shore by yourself. 

You focus on taking in the scenery, hoping to somehow take it with you to when you’re back in your bleak, government issued apartment, staring at the vastness of gray buildings that is of Bogotá. 

When you turn back to him, his eyes are already on you, less tense, more open than you’re used to. You don’t know how long they’ve been lingering on you, how little attention he had been paying to the nature surrounding you. How good it had felt, to see you like this, without the usual distaste in your face that you have come to regard him with most of the time. The silhouette of you against the bright sky, your skin glowing under the beaming sun. 

“Thank you,” you say, actually smiling at him. A spark of warmth grows in his chest. “This was a good idea, I– I enjoyed it.” 

“I’m glad.” He eagerly returns the smile, allows himself to reach out and graze one finger against the soft skin of your hand. Finding himself unable to stop touching you, now that he’s had a taste of it.

Confusion crosses your face before you quickly avert your eyes, but you don’t pull away. It gives him a sliver of hope, that maybe you’re starting to understand what he doesn’t know how to tell you. 

After a mostly quiet drive back, both of you too exhausted to talk much, Javier drops you off at your apartment, his hand once again hovering over yours before you get out. 

“Good night,” he breathes, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. After a moment of hesitation, he continues on. “You– you’re doing good work. Don’t beat yourself up over this, okay?” 

You manage a nod, murmuring thank you, Javier before opening the car door and stepping out onto your street, illuminated by the glow of yellow lights. You only realize that you used his first name by the time that your apartment door falls shut behind you. It doesn’t bother you as much as you thought it would. 

Breathing in the familiar scent of your own place, a deep relief washes over you, reveling in the knowledge that you’re gonna sleep in your own bed tonight, alone. You turn on your shower, eager to let the warm water soothe your muscles, stiff from spending the entire day in a car. 

When you exit the bathroom, wrapped into a towel and with a cloud of steam accompanying you, your answering machine is blinking. You press the button to let the message play, moving through your apartment to put on your comfiest sleepwear and ready to fall straight into bed. 

You stop in your tracks when Javier’s voice rings through the room, tripping over the words in a way that’s difficult to associate with the calm, self-assured man that you know. 

“Hey, it’s Javier. You– you’re probably showering, or already asleep. I just– I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings these past days, or– or any day, really. I wanted you to know that. You’re good at what you do, you really are, but– I worry about you, I guess. And I know that I shouldn’t, that I shouldn’t treat you differently. It’s– it’s not because I don’t like you. I like you too much, if anything, and– and now I know what it’s like to sleep next to you, and– anyway, I’m– shit, I’m making a fool of myself. Just– just call me back. Please.”

Your hand finds your phone as soon as the recording ends.

thank you for reading! as always, reblogs, comments and asks are love and absolutely make my day <3

[togenabi]

things I won't tell you

vinsmoke sanji (opla) x princess!reader

♡—the new royal chef doesn't seem to recognize you without your crown. who's going to tell him? . . . certainly not you.

word count♡— 7.3k (cries)

genre♡— fluff, royal chef x princess au

content notes♡— opla sanji, afab!reader is a princess, reader wears dresses, reader has siblings (oc's), sanji made me google fancy food, mentions of zeff, sanji gets jealous if you squint, no use of y/n, proofread (but only a little)

also on♡— ao3

author's note♡— this is detached from any canon, its basically just a big chunk of sanji fluff. please enjoy!

You've never really dreamed for yourself. You had always just let life fall into place around you.

The kingdom is prospering, entering a new age of commerce. Artists, craftsmen, and inventors sail seas just to be part of it.

Your sister Chrysanth is a wise queen, as you always knew she would be. She’s fair and just, always knowing what’s best for her people.

On the other hand, your brother August is Captain of the Royal Guard. He’s an excellent swordsman, who has yet to be beaten ever since he took command.

As for you, the youngest of the three, you have no idea what you’re doing.

The most likely outcome would be for you to be married off to settle some political arrangement. Unpleasant as it sounds, you would have agreed to it for the sake of the kingdom.

But the moment you said so, Chrysanth gave you a look unbecoming of a queen and immediately shut it down.

“Look,” She gestured to the view outside. “Does that seem like a kingdom who needs help to you? I work my butt off precisely so that we won’t have to depend on anyone else.”

“Besides,” She adds, “if anyone wants your hand, they should fight to the death for it.”

And so, for now, you work for your sister. Helping manage general affairs and the kingdom’s business agreements—even though she could easily hire someone else.

“I love that you insist on working,” Your brother told you once. “You could have been a socialite, but you’re here with us, serving the people.”

Of course you are. Because even though you didn’t necessarily plan it, you are proud and committed to your work. You’re happy with your own, mundane accomplishments.

Or at least that’s what you try to remember when you glance at the tall pile of documents on your desk. You’ll relish the satisfaction that will come when it’s gone.

The candle beside you burns low, flame becoming dimmer and dimmer as the hour grows late. You should probably replace that. Pulling open your drawer, your eyes scan its contents for a candle.

You’re fresh out of the tall ones that fit in the candleholder, but you have one sculpted like a cinnamon bun—a gift from August a few birthdays ago. It’s not exactly the best for illuminating your work, but something makes you strike a match and light it still.

It smells like freshly baked cinnamon rolls, you can’t help but inhale the decadent scent deeply.

The aroma triggers an embarrassing grumble from your stomach. You feel your ears burn despite the fact that no one else is around to have heard it. Perhaps a midnight snack is in order.

Unexpectedly, light seeps through the gap beneath the large wooden double doors to the kitchen. In all your years, you’ve never encountered anyone in the kitchen at two in the morning.

Normally, you wouldn’t want to disturb them. Knowing the chefs, they would likely fuss over you and put whatever they were doing on hold.

But you fear that your stomach will disagree with that, so you decide to knock and enter the kitchen anyway.

There’s only one chef inside—a tall, blond man with his back to you. You don’t think you recognize him. He must be one of the new hires.

When he hears your footsteps on the stone tiles, he turns around.

His expression, at first, is curious. But after a beat, his mouth curves into a charming grin that catches you completely off guard.

“Hello there, miss.” He nods in greeting, eyes alight with a look that no one usually dares when it comes to you.

“I’d be happy to fix up something for you if there’s anything you’re… craving.”

When you expected the chef to fuss over you, this isn’t what you meant.

Your first instinct is to look at his surroundings for alcohol. Perhaps he’s intoxicated and not in his right mind?

But the (sober) chef seems to have mistaken your silence for bashfulness, because he presses you further, “Trust me. I may be new around here, but I know my stuff.”

Unsure how to respond to his blatant (or insolent, your sister would say) behavior, you try to gently decline his offer.

“It’s alright,” You say, still uncertain about him. “I was only going to make a sandwich and be on my way.”

“Nonsense!” He insists. “If you’re hungry at this hour, it means you’ve been busy working too hard.”

He approaches the pantry, retrieving one too many things for a mere sandwich. Your concern grows when he grabs garlic, several leafy vegetables, and a lemon.

“You, my dear,” He points at you with, is that a cucumber? “—deserve a proper treat.”

You sigh, it looks like he doesn’t intend to back down. Maybe you should just let him do what he wants and see if he can back up all the talk. Pulling one of the chairs from beneath the kitchen island, you take a seat as you observe the flirtatious chef.

At least he seems to be enjoying himself. His hands work with the kind of precision that only comes from years of experience; and he smiles proudly when he sees you watching.

“I meant what I said, I’m a damn good cook.” He’s begun chopping the vegetables. “My name’s Sanji, by the way.”

The question now is whether or not you properly introduce yourself. It's difficult to deny that you enjoy his attention. The casual and relaxed manner he addresses you with is… a nice kind of different. When else are you going to experience that if you let this go?

Alright. For tonight, you're not a princess. You're someone who stumbled upon a chef—a handsome one, it dawns on you. This is a chance encounter in the palace kitchens. And, you glance over at the dressing and ingredients he prepared, why should you turn down good food?

You decide to only give him your name. It feels strange introducing yourself without your title, but you don't tell him that.

“It makes sense that your name is as captivating as you are.” Sanji's voice is smooth, easygoing as he moves around the kitchen.

Nothing about his demeanor changes. Either he really doesn't know anything about this country's royalty, or he's skillfully controlled his reaction and is hiding that he knows.

There's also a third possibility: that you look so haggard and tired that you simply do not appear royal anymore.

Subconsciously, you look at your typical office clothes… Maybe you should go on that fitting the royal stylist has been pestering you about.

On the topic of style, however, your companion has unusual attire for a chef. He’s wearing a buttoned shirt with a necktie. His black slacks match the suit jacket draped over one of the chairs.

Your attention is diverted when Sanji begins rolling up his sleeves. He juices the lemon he had sliced in half, arms flexing as he twists the fruit.

Clearing your throat, you ask him a question to distract yourself. “What are you making?”

He smiles as if he’s glad you asked. “A dish that suits a beauty like you, of course.”

Several minutes later, he presents you with a sandwich. The slices of bread are whole wheat; the layers of ingredients between them are all in varying shades of green.

“A green goddess sandwich, made with care for the goddess in front of me.” Sanji pushes the plate towards you. 

It's easy to stay composed despite the flattery because your hunger makes you focus on the food. “It really does look excellent.” You compliment earnestly.

He gestures to the plate before placing his hands in his pockets. “Tastes excellent too, try it.” Shaking your head at how confident he’s being, you pick up the sandwich.

It might just be the best sandwich you’ve ever had in your life. The flavors are fresh, and you catch the hints of lemon blending with the dressing. The bread is soft, contrasting with the crunch of the cucumbers and sprouts.

You're completely surprised, and it must be obvious based on how Sanji reacts. He lets out an adorable, pleased laugh that makes you want to hear it again.

“I knew you’d like it, ma chèrie.” Sanji reaches a hand towards your face. Your heart just about stops when he brushes his thumb to wipe at the corner of your mouth. His eyes look so intense, like you'll drown in them if you stare too much. 

It feels as if your face could burst into flames at any second, so you turn away to hide your flush.

As Sanji grabs you a glass of water, you ask him if he’s eaten. “I did, but it’s nice that you’re worried about me.” He answers. You almost choke on your drink.

Once you've finished your meal, you stand then grab your empty plate and glass. But Sanji mirrors you, blocking the way to the sink. Why must a chef have such broad shoulders?

He shakes his head, trying to get the dishes from you. “Can’t let you do that, love.”

“Why not?” You frown, pulling your arms back so he doesn’t reach them.

“It’s late. You shouldn’t be working any more—”

“But you’re allowed to?” You look up at him defiantly.

Sanji stares at you. You stare back. There's a few seconds of silence before you sprint the other way, running around the kitchen island to get to a different sink.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Sanji yells after you.

You’re almost there, but Sanji catches up to you easily. Before you know it, he’s blocking the way again and you curse, remembering his long legs.

“Sanji, let me do the dishes.” You plead, but he’s as stubborn as it gets.

“The knives I used need to be washed anyway, and I’m not about to let your pretty hands do that.” Sanji winks, and you give up. He pries the dishes from your hands.

Seeing your shoulders slump disappointedly, he offers you a compromise. “If you really want, you could throw the rubbish in the bin and wipe down the counters.” Okay, you can do that.

“Are you sure this is the only way I can repay you?” You ask, grabbing a washcloth to begin cleaning up.

“That’s plenty of help, my dear.” Sanji answers.

But after a moment, he seems to have gotten an idea. Your brows raise in curiosity as you question him, “What?”

“...I was just wondering,” He begins, looking at you with that flirtatious glint in his eye. “Since we had such a wonderful time tonight, would you be willing to join me again?”

“That depends,” You press your lips together to suppress the smile blooming on your lips. “Will you cook for me again?”

Sanji laughs, throwing his head back. “Darling, that’s a given.”

He gazes at you while he dries his hands. There’s a grin on his face as he asks, like he already knows your answer. He probably does. He’s probably right.

“Same time tomorrow?”

Even though you got back to your chambers at an ungodly hour in the morning, you woke up feeling the most refreshed you’ve ever been. There’s a spring in your step as you get ready for the day, and you pick clothes that are slightly more dressy than your usual attire. Sanji shouldn’t be able to notice that you dressed up for him, right?

But your sister does. 

Seated at the head of the table, Chrysanth stops eating to analyze your clothes the instant you show up to the dining hall for breakfast.

You could practically hear the gears in her head turning. Avoiding her gaze, you bow to greet her before taking your seat, “Good morning.”

The queen only smiles at you knowingly, eyes still flickering over you with enraptured excitement. Very much unlike a queen, however, she kicks your shin underneath the table.

“Ow!” You yelp.

“So…” She lets the syllable drag on. “Who’s the guy?”

You focus on piling food onto your plate, choosing to ignore her. “What guy?”

“Your guy.” She says, giddy. “Is he your guy yet?”

“Hm?” Is your only response. Breakfast looks lovely. Should you ask for coffee or tea today?

Chrysanth kicks you again.

“Hey!” You rub the skin to dull the pain. “Stop that!”

“Stop avoiding the question!” She persists, waving a hand to gesture at your clothes. “You only wear that skirt when you want to impress someone.”

Mentally cursing her for knowing you too well, you continue to act nonchalant.

“Really, it’s nothing.” You try to clarify. “I just thought that it would be a nice change.”

She doesn't believe it. Not one bit of it. Thankfully though, she drops the topic. Your shoulders relax as the discussion switches to work-related ones. She’s telling you about her plans to approve a restaurant in the museum when your brother joins you for breakfast.

Once he’s seated, August takes one look at you before tilting his head. “Who’s the guy?”

Chrysanth looks far too smug and triumphant than you’d like. You bury your face in your hands. Would Sanji also tease you if he knew?

The rest of the day is uneventful, the only change to your typical work day being that you avoid your siblings like the plague. You have lunch brought to your office and skip on dinner.

Sanji had already started cooking by the time you got to the kitchen. “I hope you don’t mind,” He says. Of course you don’t, whatever it is smells amazing. “I thought I’d start early so you wouldn’t have to wait too long.”

“Thank you for going through the trouble.” You say, glancing at the ingredients he had laid out: there are crushed tomatoes on the counter. Pasta simmers in a pot on the stove. You recognize the tubed shapes with ridges surrounding them.

“Rigatoni?” You ask, turning to the chef.

Sanji nods, “With a simple, creamy tomato sauce. Nothing too extravagant, but still specially made for you.” 

He puts the pasta into two bowls, grating parmesan cheese on top. Your mouth waters.

“Here you are, darling.” It pleases you more than you thought it would when Sanji sits across from you to eat as well.

There’s something homey and yet luscious about the taste. He really outdid himself. “It’s delicious, Sanji.”

“I live to please.” Sanji says before standing to retrieve two wine glasses and a bottle of red. “Zweigelt.” He says as he pours for you both. “Juicy and fresh, with just the right amount of acidity.”

You almost swoon at the rasp in his voice. You never realized someone could be so attractive when talking about wine.

As he clinks his glass with yours, you think to yourself that this might be your favorite dish from him. However, true to his word, he surpasses your expectations every time.

After a few weeks, on your sixth (or is it seventh?) time meeting Sanji past midnight, you've reached the point where you're able to open up to each other beyond the pleasantries that come with the food.

He tells you about his dream of traveling the seas in search for the best ingredients the world has to offer. You admit how you sometimes feel like life is just taking you along with the current—that you’ve never had a burning, passionate dream to aspire to.

“I don’t think that’s a bad thing,” Sanji hums contemplatively. “There aren’t any deadlines when it comes to finding dreams.”

“I do worry that you’re working yourself to the bone, though.” He adds, and for once, his smile looks different somehow. It’s a fond, gentle smile that’s sweeter than the macarons he made for you.

“What do you mean?” You take a sip of water.

“While I'm flattered you enjoy my food so well, do you eat properly? Shouldn't the palace be treating you better?” This time, you actually choke on your drink.

Could it get more embarrassing than this? Your ears burn as you cough, trying to clear your throat and settle your heart.

“Breathe, love." Sanji, ever the gentleman, is next to you in a flash of a second. He pats your back gently and supportively. “I'm sorry if I startled you.”

“It's alright—and, I do eat,” Your voice comes out raspy. “It's just that I don't usually have an appetite for dinner.”

“But that leaves you hungry for a midnight snack?” Sanji asks, a knowing expression on his face as he refills your glass.

“Exactly.” You smile. Thankfully, your throat has calmed down. Picking up a vanilla-flavored macaron, you savor the taste that melts sweetly on your tongue. Returning to his chair across from you, Sanji watches you eat happily. 

“I take pride in my desserts, but that chocolatier in Belltower street… The sweets are just—out of this world, I tell you.” He looks so excited as he talks, eyes aglow and gestures animated. “The chocolates are handmade and everything. I'm sure you've heard of it?”

“Um…” Hesitating, you certainly remember issuing a business permit for a chocolatier; but you can’t say you’ve gone there yourself.

Sanji’s eyes widen in disbelief. “Surely you’re pulling my leg. You haven’t been?”

“...”

He observes you quietly, like he's considering what to do next. There have been instances when Sanji stays quiet, doesn't eat, and only watches you chew. The times where he insists that he's content with seeing you eating well. Those were awkward at first, but you learned that was just part of spending time with him. Your reaction was a reward on its own.

But this isn't like that. Something feels oddly different in the way he seems to be gathering his composure. The silence almost worries you, but thankfully he breaks it first.

“You’ve saved me the trouble of thinking of a place to take you to.” Laughing, Sanji practically glows in elation. “You’ll love it, I promise.”

You had a peculiar sense that you would’ve loved going anywhere, as long as you were with him. 

Feeling bold, you suggest, “I’m free this Saturday if that’s good for you?”

He gives you that soft, enamoured look again. Something makes you hold your breath, your fingers tingle and the entire rest of the world slows down. You’re almost certain you’re giving him the same look.

“Even if I wasn’t, love, I would have gone to you anyway.”

The next day, a Thursday, your brother unexpectedly knocks on your office door.

“Hey,” You smile. “Is something wrong?” 

It’s rare for August to look for you in the middle of the day. If either of you need to speak, it’s usually you who heads into the training grounds to talk to him. The other way around occurring is curious.

“I wanted to invite you to watch the knights train this Saturday.” He says coolly. “It would boost their morale if you spoke a few words.”

The commander goes on to speak, not catching that you’ve short circuited somewhat, trying to rack your brain for a valid excuse to decline him.

“And maybe, you could pick out a personal knight like I’ve been telling you.” August prompts. “You really should—”

When he pauses, squinting his eyes at you suspiciously, you suddenly recall why you stopped trying to hide anything from him. 

“You already have plans.” He says, face carefully blank.

“Yes.” Thank goodness he understood. But wait, his eyes are widening. Why is he making that face? Why is he looking at you like he just figured out—

“You have a date.” Darn it all.

August is bewildered, not knowing what to do with the information he put together. He awkwardly brushes his fingers through his hair.

“...Is he a good guy, at least?” He settles with, asking carefully in that concerned way he does when he looks out for you.

Biting your lip, you nod. “He seems to be, so far.”

“Okay.” August responds. “Does Chrysanth know?”

“It’s nothing serious.” Yet. Yet? Do you want it to be? “You’re the first I’ve told.”

A worrying thought suddenly pops in your mind. Your turn to him, distressed. “Please don’t tell her yet, August.”

“Why?” His frown deepens, like he’s about to ask more questions. Unfortunately for him, you decide you’ve had enough talking about Sanji to your brother for today.

“Aren’t you busy?” You grab his arm, guiding him out of your office. “Don’t you have training to get to?”

“I do, but—why can't Chrysanth know?” You open the door for him and try to push him out, but August plants his feet; still trying to figure you out. He doesn’t budge an inch.

But then he makes that face again. That annoying ‘aha!’ face.

“You really need to go, good luck with training! Tell the knights I said hi—” You manage to shove him out with all your strength, but at the last second before you close the door, August turns around again.

“He’s a commoner, isn’t he?” You slam the door at his face. 

It doesn't matter. Sanji's status will never matter to you. Not when he's holding your hand so sweetly while he guides you through the winding streets of the city. You recognize some shops by name, knowing who owns what and when they established their business. But Sanji knows these streets, and he's more than happy to show you.

“Ah, one moment, my dear.” Sanji pulls you towards a quaint little cart overflowing with flowers. He flicks a coin to the vendor, eyes scanning all the vibrant colors and bursting petals. 

Somehow, without you needing to tell him, he picks one in your favorite color. You're starting to feel like that's just part of being with Sanji—that he knows what you want, and knows what you need before you do.

The flower is soon tucked into your hair, behind your ear. His fingers linger on the side of your face—and normally, you'd break eye contact and shy away. Maybe let out a halfhearted excuse that you should continue on your way. But you don't.

You smile back at him, not bothering to hide the genuine happiness you feel. And when Sanji pulls back, you're already holding out your hand before he reaches for it. There’s something in his eyes. Something that makes you feel like you're walking on air when he tugs you along again.

As planned, Sanji takes you to the chocolatier he told you about. The building is small, tucked between larger shops in the middle of a busy street, but there’s no doubting the quality of their confections.

The elderly chef behind the counter greets Sanji like a grandson she hasn’t seen in forever. She ushers him in, enthusiastically pointing to this and that, saying she moved some furniture around as he suggested.

“It looks perfect, grand-mère.” Sanji smiles, taking in the beautiful glass display. Chocolates of every flavor cover the shelves from end to end.

Grand-mère’s eyes light up when she sees you. She casts an approving look at Sanji, “I like this one. She might even be too good for you.”

“That’s because she is.” Sanji laughs, and you pretend to browse the menu while they talk.

“No need for that, ma chèrie.” The menu is plucked from your hands. Sanji sets it aside, pointing instead to where grand-mère is behind the counter. She's wrapping up a box of chocolates that she hands to you.

“No need to pay, dear.” She smiles, patting your hand. “If he ever gives you trouble, let me know.”

Sanji whisks you away through the streets again. You've never been this far into the city before. Looking back at the path you've taken and not recognizing any of it, you know you’d be absolutely lost without Sanji by your side.

“Almost there.” He tells you, pointing to a cobbled path that inclines upwards. 

What meets you at the top of the path is a small clearing. A stunning tree with blossoms on its branches stands at the center. Flowers and petals flutter away and fall onto the iron bench beneath it.

“Sanji, this is lovely...” You trail off, letting go of his hand to catch a flower into your palms. The flower twirls delicately between your fingers before you turn back to Sanji, tucking the blossom into the pocket of his suit.

Sanji takes your hand before you can pull away, bending down to press a kiss to your knuckles. 

“Not nearly as lovely as you.”

The two of you spent hours under that tree, sharing chocolates and stories—feeling like this is how things are supposed to be. Not necessarily the flowers, or the chocolates, or even the sun setting beautifully in so many warm colors.

Just Sanji. With you, next to you. 

All at once, it sinks in that he could be the dream you've been waiting for. But you don't tell him that.

Being enlightened on your feelings for Sanji becomes a second thought, however, when you’re swamped with work the following week.

“Don’t these people ever get tired?” Chrysanth groans, leaning back on her chair. “Why is planning a festival so hard?”

You approach her desk and place another stack of documents onto it. The numerous piles are getting concerning.

She scowls at the papers, then scowls at you. “Don’t you ever get tired?”

“Of course I do.” You tap a stack of documents to her left. “The guest list for the ball needs to be approved by tonight so we can send invitations out.” She groans again, but picks up the list anyway.

You’re unable to see Sanji as often as you’d like, but you both promised to meet once a week. Even if it’s only for a few short heartbeats together.

You dearly miss him. You think about him as you hand Chrysanth menu plans for the ball. If he saw it, he’d say that he could come up with something better.

She glances at the menu, studying it. Or at least, that’s what you thought she was doing—until her next words proved you wrong.

“So, how are you and that chef doing?”

Your heart isn’t in your chest anymore. It sank down, deep into the depths of the earth. It also must have taken all the air in the room along with it. How did she—

“August?” You blurt out.

Chrysanth shakes her head, “Zeff.” Oh no. Sanji’s boss knows? Does Sanji know that you’re—

“According to Zeff,” She proceeds, cutting off your thoughts. “One of his subordinates has been cooking a lot of personal meals over the last few weeks.”

“I can explain—” But your sister holds up a hand. Your mouth snaps shut.

She calls your name, and then you realize how serious her tone is. “Are you familiar with the kitchen’s rules when it comes to using ingredients and supplies for personal use?”

“...I’m afraid I'm not.” You didn’t know the kitchen had any such rules… but surely Sanji does. Your voice stutters, “I, did—is he in trouble?”

“He isn’t.” She answers, though her expression is still grave. “But I think that you should be aware of how much he’s doing for you.”

Chrysanth opens a drawer to retrieve a list of kitchen rules. Reading it over, everything is standard and straight to the point. You find the answer to your confusion towards the end, a small, nondescript bullet that reads:

All staff must reimburse the cost of all ingredients used for any reason outside of official duties.

“He must know who I am, then.” You say, feeling relieved that he didn’t break some sort of impossible rule. “He wouldn’t have done so much for me if he didn’t.”

Your sister purses her lips, letting the silence linger for a second before responding, “He doesn’t know, love.” She hands you another document. “He’s been paying back every cent out of pocket.”

Tracing over the timestamps and the different ingredients listed, you stare at an outline of your time with Sanji. It’s nice to reminisce, but you can’t help but wince whenever you spot something particularly pricey. What on earth are you to do with this man?

“Zeff recognized your name when he asked Sanji who he was cooking for.” Chrysanth explains. “He didn’t tell him, but he came to me and requested for Sanji to be repaid.”

“Since anything served to me counts as official duties of a royal chef.” You piece together. 

“Exactly.” Chrysanth nods. “However, doing that would expose your title to him. Which is why I wanted to speak to you about this first… You should tell him.”

“I know.” Letting out a deep sigh, you agree. Sanji deserves to know more than anything. Nevertheless, the thought of him changing how he treats you—or worse, leaving—because of your status, frightens you to your core. 

“I’ll talk to him tonight.” You say, but your sister’s expression slowly changes. What did she plan this time?

“Or maybe, you could put the kitchen dates on pause and tell him in a few weeks.” Surprisingly, she hands you an invitation to the ball.

“I can’t bring Sanji as my date.” No matter how much you wish you could.

“Are you sure about that?” Chrysanth is unable to contain her grin. “Open it!”

‘…you are cordially invited to the spring masquerade ball.’

You gasp, “You turned it into a masquerade?”

“Yes, I did. You won’t believe how much convincing it took for the ministers to agree.” She rolls her eyes, but then her smile returns. “Don’t waste my hard work and have fun with your man, littlest sister.”

You laugh, not expecting this outcome after all that. “I love you, even if you made me go through so much emotional turmoil for fun.” She cackles.

“Of course I had to make you sweat after what you put me through.” Chrysanth scoffs, “I can’t believe I had to hear about your love life from Zeff, of all people.”

“Ah,” She says, remembering something. “Speaking of, why’d you guess August first earlier?”

“...”

“...Did you tell him before me?” She gasps. “How could you! Give that invite back!”

“I didn’t think you’d approve.” You admit shyly. “He’s a commoner.”

“If he treats you well—which, he obviously does—I could care less about all that.” Chrysanth reaches for your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Only those stuck up ministers will react negatively, I’m sure. We can deal with them easily enough.”

When she lets you go, she abruptly adds, “He better be cute though.”

That sends you laughing again. “Oh, Chrysanth, he’s the cutest!”

He certainly is. Especially when he sees you and grins, opening his arms wide in expectation. You fall into his embrace when you’re near enough.

Sanji takes your hand and places it on his arm, leading you away from the kitchens.

“Some of the others are still in there planning for the ball.” He explains. “It seems preparations are keeping us both busy.”

Sanji takes you to the greenhouse, which you’ve never seen at night before. Various patches of vegetables and shrubs line the space. There are trees and flowers towards the back too. It feels like a secret hideout, being here with Sanji. 

“I miss spending more time with you, love.” He whispers.

“Me too.” Your heart melts thinking about how much he gave for you. You wish you had the courage to tell him the truth now, while he’s looking at you like you put up the stars in the sky, but you can’t. You’re not ready yet.

Reaching your hands up, you caress his face gently, brushing your thumb across his cheek. He places his hands over yours, keeping them there. 

Sanji closes his eyes to savor the moment, and you let him. You two stay like that, your hands becoming enveloped in so much of Sanji you feel like you could recognize him with your eyes closed, with a single touch.

There’s a certain familiarity to him at this point. You would probably have some difficulty adjusting back to life without him in it. He’s so familiar that you could probably draw him. He makes you want to try.

“...I was just wondering,” You say with a knowing glint in your eye. Does he remember those words when he said them to you that first night? “We’ve been working hard for this ball, wouldn’t it be a shame not to enjoy it together?”

You give him the invitation, and he throws his head back laughing. You send him a confused look, but it all becomes clear when he pulls out an identical invitation from his jacket.

“Ah, how brilliant you are, mamour.” Sanji embraces you again, and you bask in how perfect it feels to tuck your head into the curve of his neck.

“It will be easy to find you even with a mask.” You murmur into his skin. He shivers. “You’re so goddamn tall it’s not fair.”

“I’m not too worried about you finding you, either.” Sanji begins to sway slowly with you still in his arms. It makes your heart skip a beat. You can’t wait to dance with him.

“Are you confident you’ll find me first, then?” You ask, adjusting your hold around his middle to snuggle in better.

“I’m not sure about being first,” He ponders. “But I’ll be sure it’s you when I find you.”

The greenhouse became your new meeting place while the palace was buzzing to prepare for the ball. You could only meet for a few minutes, but you treasured the time you shared just the same. 

Once, Sanji tried to feed you one of the expensive fruits growing there, but you declined, making up an excuse that you were allergic. He had looked at you strangely, but didn’t press you further.

You couldn’t find the time to see Sanji the week of the ball at all. Your time was spent welcoming foreign dignitaries, discussing business and trade. You and your sister had a marvelous time shutting down a marriage proposal from some duke from the north.

It amazes you how much you’ve changed since meeting Sanji. Had the duke asked before you met him, you probably would have considered it seriously. Whereas now, your standard is far too high. The man you choose must be able to get to your heart by cooking you the best food in the kingdom and all the seas. 

You’re glowing by the time you finish getting ready for the masquerade. The dress you chose is in your favorite color, with the skirt twirling dreamily when you turn. 

Chrysanth permitted you to enter the ballroom a few minutes late to avoid a royal entrance. You use the time to compose what you want to say to Sanji when you tell him the truth.

‘I’m a princess, and I think I might love you’, is that a lot to say? You sigh, smoothing your hands over your dress.

The clock on the wall chimes. It’s been fifteen minutes since the ball officially started. You put on your mask, tying the ribbon behind your head to secure it.

After one last glance at yourself in the mirror, you head to the ballroom—looking much more collected than you actually feel.

Maybe you shouldn’t have bragged to Sanji that you would find him easily, because you don’t.

You were mistaken when you thought all you’d had to do was look for a tall, blond man with a blue mask. (Sanji’s mask is surely going to be blue. He wouldn’t consider any other color. You bet your foot on it.) It’s unnerving how many people fit that description tonight.

You even find your brother before you find Sanji. August is dressed in surprisingly simple, all black attire. He looks more like a gentleman than a commander, lacking all those sparkly medals he’s usually required to wear at events.

“Where’s your date?” August asks, ducking his head slightly so that you can hear him over the crowd. “Chrysanth bragged about setting you two up.”

“I haven’t found him yet.” You answer dispiritedly. “I thought it would be easy.” 

August looks around, and you know that if he knew what Sanji looked like, he would be able to track him down in a flash. You’re about to ask what you should do when August suddenly bows, extending a hand to you.

“May I have this dance, fair lady?” He asks in a fake pretentious accent that instantly makes you laugh.

It would be nice to say yes, but you desperately want Sanji to be your first dance. August would understand. 

But you aren’t able to decline, someone else beats you to it.

“I’m afraid her first dance is spoken for.” Sanji’s voice reaches your ears and suddenly the room is brighter than it was.

You almost gasp, elated that he found you. Were it not for that frown on his face, you would have voiced out your joy.

August and Sanji stare each other down. Neither of them say anything, but it’s clear that their first impressions of each other aren’t the most pleasant. Not liking the hostility you’re sensing is building, you tug at Sanji’s hand. 

Your brother’s eyes soften at that, and he bows again, this time to say goodbye. “I’ll see you later then.”

You watch August go, and Sanji grumbles something you don’t catch under his breath. You'll have to properly introduce them at some point, but worrying about their relationship can wait. You really must cheer up this grump who thought he was going to miss your first dance.

“Dance with me, stranger?” Intertwining your fingers together, you smile and take in how handsome he looks. His suit is still black, but there are several accents in dark blue—the same color as his mask.

The deep navy color makes his eyes look almost crystalline, and you recognize why you love him so immensely when he smiles.

“I would be honored.”

Sanji is more graceful than you expected. His movements are controlled and precise, never moving too fast and always making sure you’re falling into step beside him.

He’s proven, once again, that he can surpass your every expectation. Sanji spins you around, catching you by your waist and grinning before sweeping you off your feet again.

By the end of it, you’re left breathless due to far too many reasons, and they all involve him.

You had tried bringing Sanji to a romantic spot; maybe a balcony, or somewhere by a fountain in the gardens—but it seems that a lot of other people had the same idea.

Everywhere was crowded, but you suppose where you ended up is romantic in its own way. With the sky being cloudless tonight, you could see every star twinkling away through the greenhouse’s glass roof. 

Let the stars bear witness to you pouring out your heart to this man.

“Sanji…” You start, mentally preparing yourself.

“Yes, ma chèrie?” Sanji tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear, you have his complete attention.

“There are things I must tell you.” You swallow the lump in your throat, not brave enough to look him in the eye yet; though you grip his hands tightly in yours.

Sanji waits. He doesn’t complain that you might be holding onto him too tightly, or nag at you for taking too long to put your words together.

When you finally look up to meet his eyes, you find the strength to breathe it out, “...I’m a princess.”

There’s this moment again, when you hold your breath and wait for his reaction; like when you first told him your name. Suddenly, it feels like you’re in the kitchen eating sandwiches with him again.

And, just as it did back then, his reaction surprises you.

His expression barely changes, the only difference being the barely-there furrow of his brows in concern. 

“I know, love.” He says.

“What?!” You drop his hands in shock. “Since when?”

Sanji blinks. “Since the moment we met.”

“But, I—why did you pay everything back? Why didn’t you ever mention it?”

His eyes widen, “Ah, is that why you wouldn’t eat anything from me these past few weeks? I knew you couldn’t be allergic to pineberries.” 

“Sanji, answer the question.” You pout, and he rubs your arms in an attempt to soothe you.

It’s Sanji’s turn to compose himself, you notice. He looks like he wants for your time together to stay lighthearted, when the thoughts in his mind are far from it.

“You didn’t want to talk about your duties, so I never asked.” Sanji shrugs, but you can see him getting nervous. 

“As for reimbursing the ingredients, I suppose I was worried that… you wouldn’t think of our time together dearly if I was just another chef on your staff.” 

Your heart shudders when he lets out a shaky breath. Oh Sanji.

“But that’s the truth isn’t it? I am, and yet I—” He pauses, eyes searching yours desperately. “If I didn’t pay for it, I would be admitting that a chef was all I’d ever be to you.”

You open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off. “I don’t regret it. I would make the same choice if I had to.” Through the mask, you can see his resolve, but his hands shake as he holds you.

“I didn’t expect to feel this strongly about you.” Sanji continues, “You’re just so lovely, making me feel like I could take on the world for you.”

With your hands quivering the slightest bit, you pull at the ribbon behind your head. Your mask clatters to the floor. Raising your hands towards him, you push his mask up until it’s off, revealing the face of the man who has completely enamoured you; body and soul and all.

You think back to how the colors lit him up beautifully, that one sunset you shared under that blossoming tree. And now, he’s still just as beautiful, in this greenhouse under the moon and the stars. 

You love him all the same as you did then and every moment before. With the weight from keeping secrets gone from your chest, you finally let yourself admit it out loud.

“I love you, Sanji.” You confess. “I’ll go with you, if you’ll take on the world.” You try to say it calmly, but tears build up in your eyes. “You mean so much to me. You’re my dream.”

Sanji inches you closer, wrapping one arm around your waist while his other hand cradles the back of your head. “I love you too. More than you could possibly imagine.”

You quip back at him while wrapping your arms around his neck, “I think I have a pretty good idea.”

Sanji leans in the same moment you do, lips meeting in a passionate kiss that sends sparks running through every inch of your being. He pulls you impossibly tighter against him, strong hands caressing your back and holding firm at your waist. Your fingers rake through his hair, touching him to make sure he’s real. He’s here. He loves you. He knew. He always knew.

That night, you realized that your favorite taste from Sanji is his lips on yours. But, once again, he won’t hear you tell him that.

…

Sanji first saw you when a ceremony was held to welcome the new palace staff.

Everyone’s attention had been on your sister, the queen. Understandably so, but his eyes always strayed back to you. You looked gorgeous, wearing a stunning dress perfect for a princess as yourself. A cape draped tastefully down your back. And your crown sparkled brightly under the sun; but try as it might, it couldn’t be as dazzling as you.

Sanji was drawn to you instantly, and he thought he would go on with his life never understanding why.

That is, until you walked into the kitchen at two in the morning to make a sandwich.

It would have been impossible for him to not recognize you. Regular office clothes or not, something was different in the way you carried yourself. It was difficult to miss.

Other people would have thought you appeared mundane. And yet, Sanji found you the most beautiful then.

Because you let yourself smile more when you don't wear your crown. 

But he won’t tell you that.

© togenabi 2023 | see here to be added to my taglist ♡

tags: @songsofadelaide-archive @amitydoodlez @sweetexistentialism @writingmysanity @hotchocolattee @dimplewonie @hearts4zoro @kenkenmaaa @ay0nha @watercolorskyy @holymusicalmothman @appalost

author's note (yes, again)♡— sooo, what do we think about sworn knight!zoro x princess!reader ? 👀

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ COMING DOWN kim chaewon x reader

↳ warnings wow!yn, slight smoking, chaewon is down bad that’s all, listening to coming down by the weekend fits the vibe wow!kim chaewon x wow!yn i suggest you read my other wow fics before this one they’re in my masterlist <3

the sound of rain and soft music filled the room setting a calming mood for the five girls in the room, like always the found their way in the girls room, it had a way of always setting the mood.

yujin had her face stuck in her phone as she laid in yn’s bed like always, while the other girls camped out on the floor.

rei drew on one of yn’s converse that she found in her room singing softly to the lyrics along with yn who sang along as well as she practically laid on top of the other girls, her head on wonyoung’s lap and her legs resting on jiwon’s thighs.

yn groaned as she stretched out her bedding causing her shirt to rise up revealing her star tattoo on her hip line causing wonyoung to gasp and bring her fingers to the girls lower front on top of the stars.

“when did you get this!?” she asked in shock causing yn to laugh.

“feeling me up like this? I knew you were in love with me.” she teased causing wonyoung to roll her eyes and remove her hands from yn and to the girls hair tugging it slightly.

“ow!”

“I got like a month ago, I brought jiwon with me.” yn says her face pinched up from wonyoung’s tug.

rei looked up from yn’s shoe in offence, “but I’m your tattoo buddy.” she whines.

“sorry dude.” yn said as she leaned up from wonyoung’s lap and leaned forward towards jiwon, “i just love how concerned she gets when it’s finished .” yn says closely to jiwon’s ear causing the other girls face to heat up, “it’s cute.”

wonyoyng rolled her eyes and tugged yn back down into her lap, “you need to lay off the tattoos, you keep giving our managers a heart attack.” she says flicking the girls forehead.

“that’s what I've been saying!” yujin says from the bed, “but you guys make it seem like I’m being this crazy leader.”

“cause you are babe.” yn says opening her mouth to bite wonyoung’s finger causing the girl to shriek.

“that was gross!”

“there’s people in the world that would kill for me to bite their finger, consider yourself lucky.” yn teases wonyoung who can’t help but laugh at the girls comment.

silence fills the room again, only the sound of music and rain being heard before rei speaks again.

“yn are you going again tonight?”

“yeah probably,”

yujin sits up and looks at yn with concern, “going where?”

before yn could respond rei cuts in, “her little hide out.” she giggles, “yn found this abandoned shed looking place and her and her step dad have been working on it for months now, she didn’t tell you?”

“no.” yujin said offended looking down at yn who looked at her unapologetically while playing nudging jiwon with her leg who had most definitely spaced out.

“sorry dude, but you would have definitely stoped me from working on it.” yn shrugs.

yujin mouth drops , “I-I would not!” she looks at wonyoung for help but the girl only sends her a shrug.

“yn’s kinda right,” wonyoung says ignoring yn’s cocky smile, “but hey, it looks pretty cool, there’s like stars everywhere.”

“you’ve been!”

“yeah, we all have.” rei replies.

“I feel so offended right now, what the hell.”

“sorry love,” yn says to the girl, but she didn’t sound sorry, “I’ll take you next time.” she says getting up from the ground and stretching, she smiles at yujin who only glares at her.

“alright, everyone out of my room, I’m heading out.” the girls groan in response, they always loved the vibe of yn’s room, it was comforting and calming.

they all walked out the room while yn grabbed her phone and keys and followed closely behind them and towards the front door.

“be back before midnight!” yujin yells after the girl

“I’ll think about it!”

✮✮

yn loved the calming sensation she felt whenever she was there, she loved the smell of the incense that her little sister and her group member hanni brought for her to put there, she loved the glow in the dark stars that covered the ceiling, she loved the huge star rug that her step dad told her to put on the cold floor,

she just loved how comfy the place was overall, it felt like her, she felt comfortable, she felt happy with the silence that she could wrap herself with when she there, only the sound of music and rain filling her senses.

she blew the smoke out of her mouth as she laid on the gigantic bean bag that yunjin got for her to put in this place, she doesn’t smoke much, only when she’s with aeri but today just felt like the right time to do it, aeri would probably kill yn if she found out she was doing this without her.

the sound of the soothing music almost putting her to sleep but the sound of her phone going off interrupts her peace.

speaking of yunjin.

9:45 pm jenbaby bro chaewon has been on edge😭

9:45 pm jenbaby she’s acc stressing all of us out she needs to get out of here

9:46 pm jenbaby i have great idea 😁 call her pls that will definitely take her mind off of torturing us if ur torturing her

the things I’ll do for you huh yunjin.

yn slides through her contacts and finds chaewon number, she never really called the girl, only when she was helping her out with her performance, which she had a lot of fun doing cause if there was one thing yn loved it was messing with kim chaewon.

the phone rang for a while and on its last ring is when it was answered.

“hello.”

“hey chaewon ,” yn said looking at the glowing stars on the ceiling, she smiled when she could practically hear chaewon freaking out on the other line, “you free?”

“huh?”

“you heard me, let’s hang out, I’ll send you my location if you’re willing to come in the rain.”

“sure!” chaewon responds a bit to quickly causing yn to quietly chuckle.

“okay, I’ll send you the location, don’t leave me waiting.”

“of course not.” yn couldn’t help but smile at how cute the girl sounded, this was the person who was driving yunjin up the walls?

✮✮

it took kim chaewon under 20 minutes to get to yn’s small hide out.

when she saw yn calling her she didn’t know what to expect.

but she definitely didn’t expect yn to invite her to a very sketchy looking shed.

but when yn opened the door, there was nothing sketchy about it, it looked cosy, it looked homey and it looked like yn.

“hey chae,” yn said closing the door while chaewon walked, chaewon couldn’t help my smile at the girl’s nickname.

“hey..” she trailed off taking off the hood of her sweater, “this place is cool.”

“so cool right?” yn said guiding the girl to the area where she was laying down earlier, “so glad I found it.”

“go settled down.” yn said gesturing for the girl to sit on the big bean bag, “I’m gonna get a blanket.”

chaewon hesitantly sat on the overly large bean bag and tried her best to relax, trying her best to ignore that she’s alone with her crush again.

when yn came back she tossed chaewon a large blanket that had black and white stars all over it, before sitting beside the girl on the bean bag.

chaewon tensed at his close yn was to her, smelt amazing, the last time she was this close to yn, was when yn helped her practice for her stage.

just thinking back to that day had her face heating up.

“so…” she trailed off, “how come you invited me and not yunjin or something?”

“a little birdie told me that you need some cooling down and I just knew I was the right person to do it.”

chaewon face heated up in embarrassment, it was true she did need some cooling down.

“wanna talk about it? I’m like the least judgemental person ever.”

chaewon relaxed her body a little and looked down in her lap, “I’ve just been stressed lately, being a leader is hard, you always have to be strong you know.”

yn just hums in response indicating that’s she’s listening.

“and because I’m embarrassed to cry out of stressfulness, I guess I tend to make everyone else stressed as well, it probably drives everyone crazy no wonder they called you.” she laughs embarrassed.

“honestly it’s understandable.”

chaewon snaps her head to look at yn who laid on her back on the bean bag looking up at the glowing stars, “really?”

“hell yeah, I see it with yujin all the time.”

“I can’t believe me and yujin are going through the same thing, that’s so surreal to me.”

“better believe it,” yn says bringing her hands behind her head, “with all that responsibility it’s bound to get you worked up, I honestly find it impressive.”

“really?”

“yeah, I could never be a leader I’m way too unstable for that,” yn jokes(?) making chaewon let out a small chuckle.

“form the stories I hear from wonyoung, yunjin and yujin you do seem pretty unstable.” she laughs.

“and the ladies love it.”

“oh, shut up.”

“just the facts.”

her and yn talked for a while after that, she really was cooling down, she liked how it felt hanging out with yn, it felt right.

“enough about that, im curious about why you found this place?”

chaewon was starting to get comfortable, even laying down just like how yn was, she was just easy to talk to, even though she will always have that nervous feeling in her chest, yn really knows how to calm a person down.

“I’m a person who needs. to be alone sometimes,” yn says turning on her side to look at chaewon who does the same, “there’s only so much of noise I can take,”

“I went on a midnight walk, most of the time I walk with wonyoung but she was in paris, and I came across this place, it caught my attention because it had a spray painted star on it.”

“of course that was the reason.”

“yeah and during that time a lot was on my mind, their always is but more this time and all i could think about was how I would kill for a place to just have to myself so I can be alone for a little.”

“it looks like the universe really was looking out for you.” chaewon said her face heating up in the dark when she saw yn’s smile from the only light source, the glow in the dark stars that light up the dark room.

“it did, and it had a spray painted star on it, like come on it was meant for me, so I called my step dad about it and her immediately agreed to help me with it.”

“you’ve got a pretty cool step dad.” chaewon said amused at how passionate yn sounded talking about this place, it was cute.

“yeah,”

“it’s cute that you and him worked on this together.” chaewon said feeling a bit bold.

“you’re cute.”

chaewon smiled bashfully while yn brushed her bangs out of her face as the faced each other.

“I think you’re pretty cute too.” she didn’t know where this confidence was coming from.

“oh really?”

“yeah.”

the both started at each other and chaewon felt like she was getting dejavu as her eyes flickered to the lips, this felt exactly like how it felt when yn was helping her practice for her stage.

she hasn’t been able to get the feeling off her mind.

and here it is again, but this time she felt like digging further into it.

her leaned her face closer to yn’s, bringing her hand to the side of the girls neck pulling her closer.

yn carefully moved her hand to chaewon’s waist, leaning her face closer as well.

it felt like forever until chaewon gently pushed her lips onto yn’s.

she felt yns free hand wrap around her lower back and pull her up so she’s sitting on yn’s lower waist as she kissed her back.

this was a feeling she had never felt before, it felt amazing.

she knew who yn was, and she knew this wasn’t happily ever after just yet.

but for now she’s just gonna bask in the feeling.

[imaginespazzi]

Part 7: In All My Victories

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 8 - Part 9

Somebody said you got a new friend (But does she love you better than I can?)

(In which a writer in an EST timezone uses the PST timezone to announce that technically she's still meeting the deadline)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Fluff, Jealousy

Words: 6.5K

TW: Swearing, Toxic Relationships

A/N: Hello my lovelies! Listen it's past midnight here but it's only around 9 pm in California which is where most of this fic is set so TECHNICALLY I am still meeting my deadline. This chapter is kind of a filler (and I guess that's why I don't love it) because it was gonna be about ~3K longer with another scene but it was either a longer chapter or a Monday chapter and I feel like y'all would prefer a Monday chapter. I have not edited this yet because I simply just don't have the energy to so pretty please point out my errors as you read so I can use them when I edit some time tomorrow. There's probably other stuff I need to say but I'm feeling oddly delirious right now so I'll just end with the usual. Let me know what you liked, what you disliked and what you'd like to see next. Have a lovely rest of your week my loves <3

March 2033

Paige wakes up to a stream of sunlight tapping at her eyelids and someone’s soft breath tickling against her nose. She can feel a tiny hand pressed against her chest -right above her heart- and the weight of another person’s fingers intertwined against her own. The room is silent with the exception of the clock ticking on the wall and the perfectly harmonized breathing of the other people in the room. Stephie and Azzi. And Paige is scared to open her eyes, scared to move even an inch, scared that if she does either of those things, her dreamlike reality will prove to be nothing but a hopeless mirage. 

It had taken Paige a moment last night to really register what was happening around her. Dazedly, she had followed Azzi up the stairs into the guest room. She’d watched, albeit unhelpfully, as Azzi had searched out extra pillows, setting up the queen-sized bed so it could fit three people instead of it’s regular duo. It hadn’t sunk in even as Paige had slowly gotten herself ready for bed, finding herself in one of Azzi’s old oversized t-shirts suddenly overwhelmed with how much she’d missed falling asleep embraced in the scent of the younger woman’s favorite lavender and eucalyptus deodorant. Even as she’d made her way back from the bathroom and found Stephie beaming at her from where she was curled into Azzi’s side on bed, Paige still felt like she was simply just watching everything from a facetime call, like she had been while back in Dallas. It wasn’t until Stephie’s bedtime story was finished and the lights were turned off, when Azzi’s hand finally captured hers underneath the comforter and squeezed gently, that it finally clicked for Paige. 

Azzi had asked her to stay over.

Azzi had promised she wouldn’t run away. 

And as Paige finally lets eyes flutter open, blinking to adjust to the light, she breathes out a sigh of relief at the sight of a promise kept. 

Propping herself onto her elbow, she lets herself take in the view of the two people still sound asleep next to her. Paige isn’t a morning person by any means -rarely is she the first person to wake up- but she thinks if this was what she could open her eyes to every time, getting up could become her favorite part of the day. 

It’s uncanny how similar Azzi and Stephie are while sleeping. The little girl’s grip on Paige’s shirt is almost as strong as the tight hold her mother has on Paige’s hand. It’s like they’re trying to reel Paige into their world and keep her there forever, like even if she let go, they wouldn’t let her. There’s an air of contentedness on Azzi’s face as she snuggles closer to her daughter and Stephie has a soft smile at being cocooned in the protection of her mother’s arms. And Paige’s whole body aches a little bit because this bed they’re on is definitely not made for three people, but it’s nothing in comparison to the way her heart feels like it might burst from this feeling of and maybe this is how i become whole again. 

She presses a kiss against Stephie’s forehead and rubs her thumb against the back of Azzi’s hand before carefully detaching herself from the duo and slipping out of bed. The whole house is still clearly asleep as Paige lethargically brushes and then begins to make her way down the stairs. Her eyes gloss over the pictures placed across the stairwell until they fixate on one that has her in it. It’s an image taken after one of many water fights they’d had at the Fudd household during a hot summer day. Life had been so simple back then when it was water and not bullets that they shot at each other. 

Five drenched children are beaming at the camera. Jon and José are posed in some ridiculous stance, their water guns pointed at the camera. Paige, par for the course, is flexing, a far too cocky smirk dancing on her lips because she’d probably won the game (even if nobody else agreed). And then there’s Drew and Azzi. There’s a familiar pang in Paige’s chest as she brushes her fingers over her little brother’s exuberant smile. He’s latched onto the brunette’s back, a blue water balloon in his hand, as Azzi uses one hand on his hip to keep Drew in place and uses her other one to hold a pink water balloon of her own. The Fudds -Azzi- had been as big of a constant in Drew’s life as they had been in Paige’s and she wonders now, as she thinks back to her little brother’s irritation with her joining the Valkyries, if he’d ever forgive her and Azzi for taking that away from him. 

“Oh hey good morning,” Tallulah says as Paige lets herself into the kitchen, blanching slightly at the sight of the other woman. 

“Good morning,” Paige greets, pouring herself a glass of water as she takes a seat at the island, “guessing you’re making pancakes?”

Tallulah nods with a grin, “Stephie’s orders you know.”

“Ah of course,” Paige laughs, “can’t defy the queen.”

She watches as Tallulah prances around the hardwood floor, grabbing bowls and ingredients, like it’s her kitchen and Paige can’t help the twinge of envy that blooms in her bloodstream. It used to be her. She used to know the Fudd’s kitchen -the whole house- like the back of her hand because really, like Katie always said, it was her home too. But she doesn’t quite know this place, couldn’t tell you where to find the sugar or where the utensils were kept and that stings more than she’d expected. It spirals Paige into the thought that she wouldn’t know any of those things at Azzi’s own house either. And suddenly she’s struck by the reminder that two people who’d once promised to build a world together, had spent the last couple of years, building two separate ones instead. 

“Hey,” Tallulah breaks Paige out of her trance, “you good.”

Paige musters up a smile, “yeah- yeah of course. Just- just thinking a lotta things I guess.”

“They’ve all missed you, you know,” Tallulah says softly, “they try not to do it too much around Azzi but it’s always ‘oh Paige would’ve loved this’ or ‘did you catch that bucket Paige made last night’. And whenever the Wings were playing here, it was a no-brainer that they would go.”

“Yeah?” tears prickle against the blonde’s waterline. 

“Yeah,” Tallulah confirms, “Tim lowkey lost his mind before you got here last night. Poor man was running all over the place making sure things were good. Katie thought it was pretty hilarious.”

Paige lets out a watery laugh, “that sounds like them-”

“Miss Buecks,” a tiny voice interrupts her before she can say anything and Paige whirls around to see a teary-eyed Stephie looking at her from the last step of the staircase, her bottom lip trembling and panic courses into Paige’s bloodstream

“Stephie,” she practically trips over herself as she rushes to fold the little girl into her arms, “sweetheart what’s wrong?”

Stephie nestles herself into the blonde’s neck, mumbling something incoherent as she holds Paige impossibly tight. 

“Stephie,” Paige whispers frantically, concern dripping from her voice, “tell Miss Buecks what’s wrong please. I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me sweetheart.”

“Thought you left,” Stephie confesses finally, keeping her head burrowed against Paige’s shoulder, “you weren’t next to me when I woke up. Got scared.”

“Oh honey,” Paige whispers, as she gently coaxes the little girl’s head out from the crook of her neck so she can cup her face, “I’m right here. I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”

Stephie’s quiet for a second, hiccoughing to herself as she searches for something on Paige’s face before she holds out a pinky, “promise you’ll never leave?” 

Paige hesitates, the words sitting heavy on the tip of her tongue. It’s not that she doesn’t want to but Paige has learned first-hand about the fragility of the future, about how true the cliché about time changing in the blink of an eye can be. Because the truth is that it’s not just Azzi who’s scared. Paige is terrified. She’d drowned in this ocean once before and as she tries to swim in it again, she can’t quite find it in herself to shed her life-jacket by making an oath that she can’t guarantee to protect from the dangerous tides of circumstance.

And so she hopes it’s enough for Stephie as she caresses the little girl’s cheeks and says, “I promise I’ll try to stay.”

“Okay,” Stephie says softly and Paige lets out a sigh of relief, “I trust you Miss Buecks.”

Paige smiles, giving the little girl a kiss on the cheek before hoisting her up onto her lap, “did you wake your Mama up?”

“No. She’s still snoring,” Stephie giggles. 

Paige laughs, tucking that little tidbit away to tease Azzi with later, “how about you and I go get your Mama her favorite coffee?”

“Oh that’s nice,” Tallulah chirps from where she’s still standing in the kitchen, “go get coffee of course. Why would anyone stay here and help me?”

“Go ask uncle José,” Stephie shoots the younger woman an unamused look, “isn’t that what husbands are for?”

Paige stifles a grin as Tallulah narrows her eyes, waving her whisk menacingly at Stephie, “he’s not my husband yet and you watch it missy or maybe I won’t let you be a flower girl at the wedding.”

“Your wedding would be boring without me,” Stephie scoffs, “besides Aunty Tully, we’ll get you a drink too. Uncle José always says you drink vod-ka, too much of it app-ently, but I don’t know what that is,” she turns to Paige who’s gone bright red in attempt to stop herself from keeling over with laughter, “can we get vod-ka for Aunty Tully?”

Paige tries her best to compose herself, “maybe we’ll just get her a latte and save the vodka for later huh Tulls?”

Tallulah glares at her, flipping her off when Stephie’s gaze shifts towards the door, “just go get the coffee Bueckers.”

***

Not that she didn’t know it before, but Paige quickly realizes just how similar Stephie is to her mother while they’re standing in front of the bakery portion of the coffeeshop and it’s been ten minutes and Stephie still hasn’t decided which sweet treat she’d like. 

 “Stephie sweetheart,” Paige says, only slightly impatient, “how about the double fudge brownie?”

“That sounds good,” Stephie says excitedly and then her eyes dart towards the cinnamon bun in the corner, “or maybe the ninnamon bun- no wait- Aunty Tully’s gonna put ninnamon in the pancakes so maybe something else. Ooooh maybe a cookie but which one?”

Paige groans to herself as Stephie busies herself looking at the assortment of freshly baked cookies. The old woman over the counter, wearing a name tag saying Ruthie, shares a commiserating smile with her. 

“My daughter was like that too at that age. Couldn’t make a decision to save her life,” Ruthie says, a fond look in her eyes while talking about her child. 

Paige smiles, “did she ever grow out of it?”

“Well considering we went out to dinner last night and she couldn’t pick between the pepperoni and the sausage, I don’t think they really grow out of it,” Ruthie winks and Paige can’t help but think about Azzi and the way she’d struggled to pick out what to wear to bed last night, staring helplessly between two shirts that practically looked the same. 

“Oh I know that look,” Ruthie says, eyes twinkling at the hopeless smile on Paige’s face, as she tilts her head towards Stephie, “you’re thinking about her mother huh?”

“That obvious?” Paige blushes. 

Ruthie shrugs, “what is love if it can’t be seen by everyone?”

Love. The word seeps into Paige’s veins, traveling up her bloodstreams until it claws its way into her heart, settling against her ribcage like a rock so that when she breathes, it’s all she can feel. It’s too soon, she knows, and it defeats the purpose of going slow except- it’s not soon at all. Because this isn’t a new feeling, it’s a far too familiar old one that she’d buried as deep within her as possible but is now yearning to get out. It had never gone away, simply lingered in the back of her mind just waiting for this moment. And if she’s honest with herself, Paige doesn’t know if she should fight against it or let herself ride the waves of the before that are desperate to crash against the shore of now. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie whines, “come help me choose.”

Shooting Ruthie an apologetic look and ignoring the pit in her stomach at the elder woman’s words, Paige walks over and bends down to the little girl’s height, “how about a chocolate chip cookie?”

“Boooooring,” Stephie crinkles her nose. 

“Peanut butter?”

“I’m ‘lergic to nuts Miss Buecks,” Stephie says matter-of-factly and Paige pencils that important fact into her mind’s ever growing list of all about Stephie.

“Salted caramel crunch?” 

“That sounds good,” Stephie nods, “yeah I’ll get that,” she says as she turns to Ruthie, “could I get a salted car-mel crunch cookie please?” but Paige doesn’t miss the wistful look she sends towards the rest of the cookies. 

“Stephie?”

“Yes?”

“Do you want me to get you one of each?”

And she’s absolutely going to get a disapproving glare from Azzi when she shows back up at the Fudd’s with almost a dozen cookies in hand but it’s worth it for the way Stephie immediately latches onto her thigh, a dazzling smile lighting up her whole face. 

“You’re best-est-est-est Miss Buecks,” Stephie squeals, staring up at Paige with delight. 

“I know,” Paige smirks, “and you better protect me from your Mama when we get back.”

Stephie nods very seriously, “of course Miss Buecks. I’ll protect you with my life.”

Paige ruffles the younger girl's hair before turning to Ruthie who’s grinning at her, “one of every flavor of cookie you have please. Except anything that has nuts.”

“Coming right up,” Ruthie winks at Paige, “your daughter has you wrapped around her little finger huh?”

And maybe Paige should at least attempt to correct the misconception but as Stephie clings to her just a little bit tighter, she can’t find it in herself to say anything but, “yeah, yeah she does.”

***

“Next time you kidnap my daughter, can you at least send me a text?” Azzi says, a grin on her lips as she opens the door to let Paige and Stephie enter back into the Fudd household. 

“Good morning Mama,” Stephie says happily, launching herself into her mother’s arms and placing a sloppy kiss against her cheek. 

“Morning sunshine,” Azzi laughs, “you seem giddy this morning.”

“Miss Buecks bought me six-teen cookies and she let me eat two of them while we were dri-” Stephie pauses mid ramble, eyes widening as she dramatically slaps a hand over her mouth. 

Paige groans as a glare overtakes Azzi’s previously smiling features, “Steph what happened to protecting me?”

“It was an aksy-dent Miss Buecks I’m sorry,” Stephie whimpers, hurriedly cupping her mother’s face, “please don’t be angry at Miss Buecks, Mama. It was my idea.”

Azzi rolls her eyes, “I bet it was. But if you already had two cookies, you must be full? I guess that means no pancakes for you-”

“Miss Buecks forced me to eat the cookies,” Stephie cuts her off and Paige gasps at the betrayal, “not full at all Mama because you can’t get full unless you like what you eat and I didn’t like those cookies at all. So I neeeeeeed pancakes.”

“Traitor,” Paige hisses at the little girl who shrugs sheepishly. 

Stephie shoots her an apologetic smile as Azzi hides a grin against her daughter’s hair, “I’m sorry Miss Buecks but I really, really want pancakes. I’ll die if I don’t get pancakes.”

“Okay drama queen,” Azzi chides fondly as she puts Stephie back on the ground, “go get your pancakes,” and then she rounds onto Paige with a patented glare. 

“I got you an iced vanilla latte with extra whipped cream,” Paige says before the younger woman can say anything, practically shoving the cold drink into her hand. 

“Sixteen cookies? Paige seriously?” Azzi asks, eyebrows raised as she sips at her coffee. 

“You didn’t see her Az,” Paige defends, “she looked so sad when she couldn’t decide.”

“Just because she looks sad doesn’t mean you buy her every single cookie to make her happy,” Azzi shakes her head exasperatedly. 

“I’d buy her the whole shop if that’s what would make her happy,” Paige says, sincerity weaved throughout every word of the sentence. 

“You would, wouldn’t you?” Azzi says softly, a hint of awe in her voice, “you’re kind of a sap Paige Bueckers.”

“Only for you and your daughter Azzi Fudd,” Paige whispers, leaning her head against the younger woman’s temple, “only for the two of you.”

They stand there like that, barely touching beyond their foreheads, yet basking in a certain kind of intimacy that they’ve only ever found with each other. The thing is, Paige’s senses are always heightened, every part of her always alert of what’s going around her. Except when she’s with Azzi. When she’s with Azzi she can let the noise fade to the background and let everything else become a blur and simply just be with Azzi. When she’s with Azzi, she doesn’t have to worry; doesn’t have to have her sword out ready for battle because she knows the younger girl will always be her shield. When she’s with Azzi, Paige is safe. 

They’re shaken from their reverie by a cough in the background and Paige reluctantly looks over her shoulder to see Jana regarding them with an amused look. 

“Guess I missed a couple of chapters?” 

“Shut up,” Paige grinds out, annoyed as Azzi moves out of her space, “what are you doing here so early El-Alfy?”

“I’m here for breakfast because I’m basically an honorary Fudd,” Jana throws her head back before yelling, “RIGHT KATIE?’

“Right Jana,” comes the muffled confirmation from the kitchen as Jana smirks at Paige. 

“The better question Bueckers,” the Egyptian prods with a smirk, “is what are you doing here so early?”

“I slept ov-” Paige bites her tongue but it’s too late as Jana’s grin gets wider and next to her, Azzi lets her head drop into her hands. 

“You slept over? In which room?” Jana asks innocently. 

And of course Stephie chooses exactly that moment to catch wind of the conversation, yelling from the kitchen, “she slept with me and Mama, Aunty J.”

“Thank you for telling me Stephie,” Jana’s eyes twinkle with mirth as she pulls out her phone, “oh I’m about to make some money- hey!”

Azzi snatches the phone out of her younger teammate’s hand, a sweet smile playing on her lips as she starts walking towards the kitchen, “no phones at breakfast thank you!”

“That’s not fair,” Jana whines sauntering after the GSV shooting guard, Paige snickering as she follows the two of them into the kitchen. 

“Life’s not fair. Deal with it,” Azzi glares before slipping Jana’s phone into her own pocket, “you can have it back before you leave.”

“Y’all are so mean,” Jana sulks, pouting harder when she reaches out to grab a pancake and immediately has her hand whacked by Tim.

“That one’s for Paige,” the older man warns sternly and Paige sticks her tongue out at her teammate as she grabs the pancake onto her place. 

“WHAT?” Jana guffaws, “what’s so special about it?”

Tim shrugs, “absolutely nothing. Just thought it would be funny to see you annoyed.”

“Y’all are the worst adoptive family a player could have you know that?” Jana scolds, pressing her fists to her cheeks like she’s barely older than Stephie, “and to think I was gonna invite the two of you,” she glares at Paige and Azzi, “to a party.”

“Party? Can I come?” Stephie asks excitedly. 

“Unfortunately this one’s just for adults kiddo. And it’s not really a party,” Jana explains, “me and Joyce thought it would be nice to do a little team-bonding, especially for you P. Drinks at the bar next weekend?”

“Sounds good,” Paige confirms, “we’ll be there!”

“Oh it’s ‘we’ now is it?” Jana teases, “you guys gonna come together?”

“No,” Azzi says at the same time as a profound “yes” leaves Paige’s mouth. The two of them stare at each other with questioning looks and Paige feels a heavy pit settling in her stomach. Rationally, she knows Azzi’s probably right. No part of going slow includes going to a party with their teammates together, especially not when they’re trying to keep whatever it is they’re doing on the down low. But there’s something about being a secret again, that raises a bitter taste of what killed us then could kill us now in her mouth. 

“Awkward,” Jon whistles slowly, only to be met with a simultaneous slap on the back of his head from both his mother and Tallulah. 

“I mean- I would have to drop Stephie off here- or umm- at Colleen's so like- logically- practically- uh- it um- it wouldn’t make sense for us to go together,” Azzi says and Paige has to refrain herself from calling it a bullshit explanation. 

Instead she gives the younger girl a tight-lipped nod, “right yeah-wouldn’t make sense for us to go together. Obviously,” gritting her teeth and desperate to change the topic, she turns to Jana, “will the whole team be there?”

“A couple of them aren’t currently in the Bay but yeah most of them,” Jana shrugs. 

“Oh,” Stephie claps excitedly, “will Aunty Chérie be there? Is she back yet?”

Paige narrows her eyes as both Jana and Azzi exchange looks, “who’s Aunty Chérie?”

“Aunty Chérie’s the best,” Stephie gushes, “she’s really nice and pretty and she calls me ‘mon chérie’,” the little girl does her best attempt at a vaguely french accent and realization starts to claw at Paige’s mind, “so I call her Aunty Chérie. She’s Mama’s best friend on the team.”

Paige tries and fails not to grimace at the sentence; the idea of anyone else being Azzi’s best friend feels like nails being screwed into her skin. 

“I’m your Mama’s best friend on the team,” Jana butts in, trying to rescue Azzi from the hole her daughter’s about to dig her into, glancing worriedly between the two former huskies who are doing their best not to look at each other. 

“If you say so Aunty J,” Stephie concedes, “but you didn’t answer my question. Is Aunty Chérie back?”

“Yeah she- um Clémence I mean- is coming back for a little bit next week so um-” Jana swallows, clearly not having thought the uncomfortableness of the situation through, “yeah she’ll uh- she’ll probably be there.”

Stephie lets out a whoop of excitement and Paige feels it burn a hole in her stomach. She knows she has no right to be upset at the idea of Stephie being as enamored by another one of Azzi’s teammates but something about it makes her feel queasy inside. Because Clémence Martens isn’t just a teammate. Paige doesn’t know the exact history there; she’d never had the right to ask about it but she’s seen the way Clémence looks at Azzi and she knows she doesn’t like it one bit.

“I thought Clémence was being traded to Atlanta?” Paige keeps her voice low as she leans into Jana. She’s not sure if Stephie knows the news yet and despite the jealousy that’s blooming in every crevice of her body, she doesn’t want to hurt the little girl by accidentally announcing it to her, “why’s she coming?”

Jana sighs, “Joyce invited her cause she was gonna be in town. You know they don’t know about-” the taller woman gestures between Paige and Azzi, “-all of this so. It’s just for one night Paige.”

“Right,” Paige nods, eyes locking with Azzi’s across the table as the younger woman fidgets with the ‘S’ necklace around her neck and shoots Paige a timid attempt at a reassuring smile, “just one night.”

***

August 2028

USA 68         France 64

The entire arena is abuzz for the final 20 seconds of a grueling semi-final match between the storied USA Women’s Basketball team trying to keep their dynasty alive and a vindictive French team eager to avenge their last heartbreaking Olympic loss. France has possession of the ball, shot clock turned off, and Paige has been tasked with guarding Clémence Martens. The woman in front of her, a bench player for the Golden State Valkyries,  had never seemed like much of a threat to Paige when they’d met during the W season, but seemed to have become a whole other beast when representing her nation. Clémence is currently leading the French team in assists and is only behind Gabby William in points. Paige keeps herself glued to the woman as she tries to get herself free for the inbound. 

The inbounder realizes after a couple of seconds that the French coach’s advice to get Clémence the ball wouldn’t be possible and instead the ball ends up in the hands of Iliana Rupert instead. As gameplay resumes, Paige does exactly as she’s supposed to and she can tell that she’s getting under the French woman’s skin as Clémence curses to herself in her native language. Paige bites back a smirk, secretly pleased at having riled her competitor up. The ball continues to pass around the French players, time ticking away, but the USA’s defense doesn’t allow a good shot until Gabby throws up a miraculous jumper with a second left on the shot clock. 

And of course, in a way that’s perhaps too reminiscent of how France had lost in 2024, it goes in. 

But it’s not enough and Paige feels blood rush to her ears as the entire arena, decked out in red white and blue, roars with triumph, celebrating the world's greatest team returning back to the finals stage. There’s still one more game but this win is special. They’d been down by 11 points at the half and Paige could almost picture the headlines ready to write themselves about the streaks that could be broken if they lost. But she was no stranger to the pressure that came from playing for a team with a deep history and it had been her and Stewie, partially motivated by their former college head coach frowning at them from the sidelines, that had spear-headed a 23-3 run at the beginning of the 3rd quarter. The USA women’s team hadn’t looked back since and now they were one more step away being golden again. 

“You did it,” Olivia screams, running into Paige’s arms as friends and family start to gather on the court, “I’m so proud of you!”

“Thanks Olivia-” Paige is about to say more when the familiar back of someone’s head catches her attention and, like they always seem to when she’s around, all the words die on the tip of her tongue. 

Azzi. 

Paige could’ve sworn she’d seen the woman in the crowd at some point but she’d chalked it up to a trick of the light manipulating her eyes into seeing what her heart desperately wanted. But as she watches the woman she’d once imagined celebrating all of her victories with, slowly brush away the tears of someone else’s loss, Paige can’t help but wish that it had been a trick of the light after all. She feels suffocated and she can’t tell if it’s from how tight Olivia’s holding her or if it’s because Clémence is burying her head into the space between Azzi’s neck and shoulder, a space that Paige used to mark as hers. And then Azzi looks above Clémence’s shoulder. Dark brown eyes shimmer with unshed tears as they lock onto watery sky blue ones. They’re standing in other people’s arms and they really should look away but how can they when looking into each other’s eyes feels a little bit like finally coming up for air. And Paige realizes that what she’s really being suffocated by is the regret of you’re supposed to be holding me and i’m supposed to be holding you; it was meant to be us. 

Azzi lets go of Clémence first, soothingly rubbing the francophone’s back as she makes her way over to congratulate the USA team, starting with Cam and Aliyah. Paige pulls away from Olivia, oblivious to the way annoyance flits across her wife’s features as she catches sight of Azzi. No one but the blonde notices how hesitant Azzi’s steps are, how she carefully pauses a little longer than necessary with everyone else until she finally reaches Paige, managing to give her a small but sincere smile. Olivia wraps a possessive hand around Paige’s bicep and the blonde fights the urge to shake it off when she notices Azzi’s eyes flickering to it for a brief second before coming back up to her face. 

“Congratulations Paige,” the formality in Azzi’s voice feels like acid pelting against Paige’s skin, “you were really good tonight.”

“Thank you,” Paige smiles politely, “it was pretty stressful there for a second but I’m glad we got the dub. But it um-” she hesitates, unsure if she should say the next part, “it would’ve been nice if you were out there with me- with us I mean. We could’ve used your shooting.”

“Maybe next time,” Azzi gives her a half-grin. 

“Oh I don’t know about that,” Olivia says airily, sharp nails digging a little too roughly into Paige’s skin as her grip tightens further, “there’s plenty of talent up and coming in the next 4 years.”

This is a side of Olivia that Paige is only just beginning to unveil, the side of Olivia that makes snide bitchy comments with a saccharine voice. And Paige really should let it go at this moment, make a mental note to speak with her wife about it later instead of jumping in. But she can see the insecurities brimming in Azzi’s eyes and the words tumble out before Paige can stop them. 

“Yeah but no one better than Azzi.”

Olivia stiffens, “right unless she’s injured or pregnant or something. You’re prone to those right?”

“Olivia,” Paige hisses. 

“I didn’t mean it offensively,” Olivia feigns innocence and a bitter mix of irritation and anger coils itself around Paige’s ribcage, “just something to think about.”

Azzi’s quiet for a second before a sugary smile, laced with poison, inches itself onto her face, “I’ve only been pregnant once and I haven’t been injured since college which I would expect someone in sports media to know but,” the brunette’s eyes flash dangerously, “I suppose that’s something someone with national media credentials would know, not just a mere local beat writer for Dallas’s fifth most read newspaper,” Azzi turns to Paige, sarcasm morphing into something far more genuine, “congratulations again. I’m really happy for you Paige.”

***

The Reynolds-Bueckers hotel room is a pathetic hot mess that night. Olivia’s livid at Paige and Paige is livid at the stupid #Clézzi tag on tiktok. She’s no stranger to fan edits and she’s definitely no stranger to ship edits and so when the first tiktok appears on her for you page, she knows better than to click on it. She knows better but she does it anyway. And suddenly she finds herself sucked into montage after montage of so-called moments between Clémence and Azzi that fans had noticed and documented. The clips are bad enough themselves but it’s the captions, bold declarations of look at the way she looks at her; no one can love azzi the way clémence loves her, that really piss her off. Clémence might look at Azzi like she’s made of stars but Paige knows that she looks at Azzi like she is the moon, Paige’s moon. As Olivia’s anger bounces off the walls, her rant about disrespect starts to mesh with the audio of the edits that continue to play on the blonde’s phone and Paige wonders if this her God-designed personal hell. 

“Are you even fucking listening to me Paige?” Olivia yells, forcing Paige to look up at her wife. 

“What do you want me to say Olivia?” Paige asks tiredly. 

“What do I want you to say? Well nothing now Paige. She said all of that shit to me and you were silent then so I’m not expecting you to say anything of meaning now either.”

“You’re the one who poked her first-”

“Jesus fucking christ,” Olivia laughs maniacally, “you’re really gonna do this?”

“I’m not doing anything,” Paige protests. 

“You’re defending her,” Olivia yells, “you’re my wife and you’re defending her. You’re defending your ex. Can you seriously not see what’s wrong with this picture.”

“Olivia,” Paige sighs, eyes gazing down at her phone where another fuckass Clézzi edit has started to play and she rapidly scrolls past it, “it’s been a long day and I just wanna go to bed. I have practice tomorrow and the gold medal game-”

“Right fucking basketball. Again,” Olivia rolls her eyes. 

“What-”

“It’s fine,” Olivia pinches the bridge of her nose, the fight draining from her voice, “you’re right go to bed. I’m not- I’m not feeling great so I’ll sleep out here tonight. Wouldn’t- wouldn’t want you to get sick before the gold medal game.”

“Olivia,” Paige says half-heartedly, taking a timid step towards the woman in front of her.

“It’s fine,” Olivia says, “just- just go to bed Paige.”

Paige knows that the last thing she should do is actually listen to her wife. And she knows that if it was Azzi -she hates herself for even thinking this way- she wouldn’t walk away. If it was Azzi, Paige would’ve pulled her into her arms, held her there and made her talk because they both hated going to bed angry. But well if it was Azzi, this whole situation wouldn’t exist in the first place. 

And so she ends up in bed alone, still scrolling through random tiktoks in an effort to not have to deal with all the voices in her head, until suddenly she stumbles on a video captioned and at the end of the day she’ll still always be looking at her. It’s a video taken today. Paige is holding Olivia and Azzi’s holding Clémence but they’re staring at each other. And Paige thinks that whoever wrote the caption, had probably gotten it right. At the end of day, she’ll always look for Azzi. She just doesn’t know if she’ll find her ever again. 

***

USA 102         Australia 73 

Paige can already taste the feeling of a gold medal around her neck as she takes a seat, the crowd roaring with applause as Coach Lawson empties her bench. There’s only fifteen seconds left in the game and her knees are bouncing in anticipation, ready to celebrate a moment she’s been dreaming of for god knows how long. Paige scans the crowd, not even pretending to look for anyone but Azzi and she can’t help the smile that erupts on her face when she spots the brunette with her fingers crossed, a brilliant grin directed in Paige’s direction as she mouths i’m so proud of you. 

Olivia isn’t here, claiming she was too sick to come tonight. Paige thinks she probably should be more upset about that. She thinks the whole thing is probably a ruse that Olivia had concocted to get Paige to beg her to come, to get Paige to show her that she wanted her wife there. The other woman's face had fallen when Paige hadn’t really reacted to the announcement, simply pressed her lips to her forehead and mumbled a feeble hope you feel better before leaving. Paige thinks this is probably the first sign they're falling apart. She thinks she should probably care about that a little bit more too. 

But the first thing her eyes had landed on once she’d entered the court, was Azzi’s face in the lower bowl and everything else had ceased to exist. Her first petty thought had been a ha! fuck you to the damned Clézzi shippers who claimed Azzi wouldn’t show up today, too busy consoling Clémence. They didn't know Azzi was all-american. Her second thought, the one that felt like a warm blanket being wrapped around her soul, was that of course Azzi’s here. Because Azzi had been there every time Paige achieved a milestone and even if they were barely a shadow of what they used to be, it's only right that Azzi is still here. 

Australia doesn’t even bother taking a shot, bowing out gracefully and the buzzer rings. 

The entire arena bursts into confetti and music as the USA Women’s Basketball Team clinches yet another Olympic Gold Medal. 

Paige doesn’t know who she’s hugging, lost in a sea of red uniforms as she feels herself floating through her teammates. They end up in a huddle, screaming and she can barely make out who’s saying what but it doesn’t matter. The chaos has never felt so fucking cathartic.

As everyone else disperses to find their families, Paige’s eyes land where they always seem to: on Azzi. And maybe she shouldn’t do it, maybe she should think again but fuck it Paige Bueckers is an olympic gold medalist and she’s going to share this moment with the first person she’d ever won a medal for this country with. Her legs move of their own accord, walking and then running and she breathes out a sigh of relief when she realizes that Azzi’s moving towards her too. 

“You did it. Oh my god Paige you did it,” Azzi squeals as they crash into each other in the middle of the court, her arms instinctively going around Paige’s neck as the blonds wraps her hands around Azzi’s waist, “I’m so fucking proud of you. I knew you could do it Paige.”

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Paige breathes out, “I just- it wouldn’t be the same winning without you.”

Azzi’s eyes soften, “I came for you. I don’t know if I’m allowed to say that but- I’m here for you.”

“Good don't want you to be here for anybody else,” Paige tightens her hold on the younger woman’s waist, “we’re gonna do it together next time okay. You and me, we’re gonna be golden together.”

And they both know that they’re saying words they shouldn’t say. That when they break apart from this moment, they’ll have to walk away. But for now, being in each other’s arms is the only thing that feels right, that feels golden.

[latenightdaydreams]

König thought

Him walking past a recruits' room, hearing them moaning his name.

Honestly think he'd go a little feral if their begging for him to let them cum.

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 König would absolutely die if he heard this.

Late Night Walk (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

Part2

>cw: fem/afab, voyeurism, masturbation

1.0k word count

.

.

It was way past midnight and König couldn’t sleep. He put on grey sweat pants and a tight black shirt, his sniper hood over his head as he leaves his room. The halls are quiet as he walks along, only the sound of his footsteps filling the empty space. Turning the corner, something catches König’s attention.

A tiny pathetic little moan; his cock instantly tingles. He slows his steps so that they can’t hear his footsteps and accidently interrupt them. He hears them whimper his name. A small little “König” and he feels like his mind is melting. He walks close to your door, realizing it’s you. His jaw drops. You? He had no idea someone like you could desire him. You’re so…perfect.

He hears small wet sounds, most likely the sound of your small fingers going in and out of your tiny cunt. Fingers so small, they probably aren’t even pleasing you. Just one of his fingers would probably fill you…

“Mmmm, König, please.” You moan from your bed.

König’s eyes flutter as he hears you moan his name again. He quickly looks around the hallway to make sure no one else is around. Once he is sure he is truly alone, he slips a hand under the band of his sweat pants; his hand grasping his cock. He presses his ear against your door to hear things better.

His large calloused hand wraps around his leaky cock, pulling back his foreskin before rubbing his palm around the tip. His breath shutters from the pleasure. He closes his eyes and focuses on your sounds. His hand grips himself tightly as he begins to stroke his cock. Picturing in his mind that he was fucking your pretty pussy instead.

He has an overwhelming urge to knock on your door and just go in and fuck you. You’re literally moaning out to him, yet he can’t seem to find the nerve to. You’re a recruit and he is your Colonel. That would be breaking the rules, but fuck that cunt sounds deliciously wet.

Pumping his fist over his cock faster as he hears your little fingers begin to move faster. Your moans becoming slightly louder and more intense. You’re getting ready to cum. He listens intently.

“König, please, I need to cum.” Oh fuck, his brow furrows as he stops breathing. “Please, make me cum König.”

My god how he wishes he was the one making you cum, not your pathetic little fingers. His cock would ruin you for any other man, you’d be his forever; addicted to the way he fucks you. You’d never have a lonely night again.

Eyes closed and three fingers deep into your pussy, you’re imagining König’s massive body over yours. Legs spread wide apart to accompany his body, three fingers because you know his cock would be fucking massive. The man is a behemoth. You imagine him relentlessly fucking your cunt until you wouldn’t walk. You’re close. Moaning out to the König you’re envisioning.

“Please, can I cum Colonel?” Your free hand moves to rub your clit.

Please cum for me. König is losing his mind. Begging him to let you cum, calling him by his rank. König bites his tongue to stifle his moans as he begins to jizz in his pants. He couldn’t hold on any longer.

On the other side of the door your moan out in a soft melody, thanking König for fucking you. König in disbelief of what just happened, quickly snaps out of his lust trance when he hears you get up from the bed. He withdraws his hand and wipes it on the side of his sweat pants.

With a wet spot on his pants, he quickly and quietly turns and goes back to his room. Quickly changing out of his cum covered bottom, he gets into bed, excited to see you tomorrow.

The next morning you had training bright and early. You got showered, dressed, and ate before heading off. Once entering the room, your eyes instantly go to König, like always. Except this time, his icy blue eyes were already on you. Instantly you blush and look down to the ground. König smirks under his mask and continues to watch you.

As recruits are filing into the room König takes the time to slowly approach you from behind; he can’t stop replaying you moaning out for him in his mind. He towers over you and stands closer than he has to. You smell wonderful, he wonders how your pussy smells.

Feeling a presence behind you, you turn. Jumping when you see König. He just looks down at you for a while not moving.

“Hallo,” Why am I so fucking awkward?!  

“Hello, Colonel.”

“How are you today?” His voice is stoic, hiding the lust he feels for you.

“I’m well sir, yourself?”

He nods softly, his eyes dropping from your eyes to your soft lips and then back up. He is thinking about kissing them, wondering how you taste. Imagining what they would look like wrapped around his fat cock. “I’m also well.”

You both stand awkwardly, both wanting to say something but not daring to say anything. Instead, you gaze into his blue eyes and take in his true size and smell. As he studies your face, trying to imagine how it looked when you were moaning out his name.  He was going to find out. Leaning in a little more so he can whisper in your ear, his proximity sending chills down your spine.

“You know, Liebling, if you were to ever find yourself unable to sleep again…my door is always open.”

König leans back and looks down at your stunned expression, clearly embarrassed but he can see the excitement building behind your eyes. He simply turns around and walks away, as if he was totally chill about this. In reality he can’t believe he just did that. His heart beating a million miles an hour and face bright red, but the mask hides it all.

He only hopes that you take him up on that offer.

Part2

[unclewaynemunson]

Pt2 to this post. At this point it looks like there’ll be 4 parts in total :)

Robin is basically seething with rage when she walks into Thatcher Tire before the start of her own shift at Family Video. After a month of Steve being happier than she had ever seen him before, he showed up on her doorstep on the verge of tears last night. She had to listen to him talk about Eddie until well after midnight. About Eddie, who had apparently only been “fucking around” with him for the past month, while Steve was falling head-over-heels for him.

Robin liked Eddie, of course she did. But one part of her had not even been surprised about this turn of events. It was the part of her that had never fully trusted Eddie – the part she had tried her very best to shut up because she didn't want to believe in the possibility of it being right.

It was the part of her that had been warning her that something about Eddie and Steve seemed off right from the beginning: how Steve was falling, with complete faith and no safety net, while Eddie was... Well, it wasn't like he was actively mean or cruel in any way. It wasn't like he seemed to be using Steve or like he wasn't really into him. None of that. But there had always been this something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

Now she finally knows what it was.

She has dozens of questions ready to fire at him. Did he ever even notice how fragile Steve really is, underneath those leftover pieces from his high school days? How lonely he is? Does he even know how badly that boy wants to be loved? Does he know how much it broke Robin's heart when she couldn't give that love to Steve in the way he wanted her to? Will it break Eddie's heart, too, when he realizes what he has done to Steve? Or did he already know, all this time? Has he just been playing some cruel game for a whole fucking month?

So she barges into the garage and marches purposefully towards the backroom with her battle baret all dusted off for the occasion, ready to tell Eddie exactly what she thinks of him. But she stops in her tracks when she hears Eddie's voice emerge from the room, sounding like he's already caught up in some kind of heated conversation himself.

'Right?! I mean, can you believe this shit?! He just shows up with goddamn flowers like we're – like we're actually together or some shit!'

It's silent for a while and it takes Robin a few seconds to realize that he must be on the phone.

'He's hot, okay?' Eddie continues, in a voice that could best be described as distressed. 'And the kids like him, he's cute, there was no reason not to say yes when he asked me out. But it was never supposed to – we were just supposed to have some fun and leave it at that.' He actually sounds like he's on the verge of tears by now.

'Because this was never the fucking plan!' he answers a question asked from the other end of the line. 'If he's gonna continue like this, all sweet and caring and giving me flowers and shit... I'm gonna fall in love with him, Jeff, I'm serious! I don't even know why he's doing this – he probably just wants to know that he can, you know. Give his ego a little boost and laugh at me when he finds out it's actually working. It's cruel, it's really fucking cruel.'

There's another beat of silence.

'You're a lifesaver,' Eddie then says. 'And bring that one ice cream, you know the one, with the pecan and the – exactly! And maybe some of your mom's chocolate pie if she still has – thank you, my hero. Oh, and don't forget to say hi to your mom from me.'

While Eddie hangs the phone back on the hook, Robin takes her final step around the corner.

'Is that really what you think of him?'

Eddie jumps up when he sees Robin standing in the doorway, her arms crossed in front of her chest and one of her most scathing looks on her face.

'What the hell, Buck? Were you eavesdropping on my phone call?'

'You really think he's the cruel one?' she repeats, ignoring his indignant question. 'Then why did he show up at my door yesterday night looking like a heap of misery and telling me how his boyfriend turned out to only have been his hookup all this time?'

'Look, Buckley, I – wait, what?'

'What?'

'His what now?'

And the utterly confused look on his face tells her more than enough. He didn't know, she realizes. He truly didn't know what Steve felt for him.

'You fucking dummy!'

'I – what did you just call me?'

'A dummy.' Okay, it's not exactly the best insult she ever came up with, but she has no choice but to double down on it now.

'No, earlier, you – you said – his boyfriend,' Eddie stutters out.

Robin merely shoots him an unimpressed glance.

'Steve thought we were boyfriends?!' he exclaims in a shrill voice. He looks at her like she just dropped some news about Vecna returning to Hawkins.

'Do you really have to look that disgusted about it?'

'No, I wasn't – Are you playing some kind of twisted prank on me here?'

'Do I look like this is a prank?'

He narrows his eyes at her. 'But... Why the hell would he want us to be boyfriends?'

'Because he liked you, you idiot!' she yells at him. 'Because he asked you out and you said yes and you were nice to him! Because he basically had those obnoxious little pink hearts floating around his head whenever you were together! Because you treated him with more kindness and respect than any girl he's ever dated before – well, until he wanted to celebrate your anniversary and you basically told him to fuck off when he wanted to take care of you while you were sick! Which you clearly aren't, by the way!'

'Don't be ridiculous here,' Eddie shoots back at her. 'Why would he ever want me to be his boyfriend?'

'Because – are you even listening to me?! Because he's in love with you!'

'Come on, Robin, you can't actually believe that,' he says, a tensed chuckle coloring the end of the sentence. 'He's Steve Harrington.' And he says that name in such a snide tone that it makes Robin flinch on her best friend's behalf.

'I mean, sure, he's fallen from his throne and all that,' he continues, 'but no one really changes that much. He was a dick! Don't you remember how he treated your band friends? Don't you remember how completely invisible you were to him? Don't you remember the names he called people like us? All the people he'd knock down to lift himself up?'

She doesn't avert her gaze, but only lifts her chin.

'You don't need to remind me,' she tells Eddie, trying her very best to sound as calm as possible. 'I remember. But I also remember how he snuck the most nerdy kids I ever met into the back of our ice cream store to let them watch movies for free. And I remember how he stuffed them with free ice cream when nobody was watching. I remember how he spent hours giving Dustin advice about his girlfriend – the advice was terrible, frankly, but that's not the point, it was well-meant.' No, stop, don't get distracted, she sternly tells herself, steering back to the topic at hand.

'I remember how he did everything in his power to get Dustin and Erica to safety when we all got caught in a goddamn nightmare. I remember how he almost died taking a bunch of punches for me.' She takes a quick breath before she goes on. 'I remember how he broke down in my arms because he felt so guilty about the person he used to be, the people he hurt when he was this asshole teenage boy doing asshole teenage boy shit. I remember how dumb he felt when he didn't get into any colleges again, I remember how scared he was when he figured out he liked boys, I remember how you were the one who made him finally feel some self-worth again when you guys started dating... And you know what else I remember? How you broke his heart yesterday. So you don't have to tell me what a dick he is, Eddie Munson. If you need to point fingers and call someone a dick so bad, don't you dare come for Steve. You better look in the mirror for that.'

Pt3 is here!

(Edit: it's actually 5 parts now. You can read the whole thing on ao3 here)

The amount of people asking to be tagged has frankly been unreal, woah! It honestly means so fucking much to me that you care enough about this silly lil story to ask for a tag 🥹 Seriously, thank you so much, and I hope you liked this part / the way the story is unfolding. I’d love to hear what y’all think <3

Taglist: @pluto-pepsi @i-less-than-three-you @estrellami-1 @epiclazershark @angelscoops @missmagillicuddy @fxndom-hoe @chaoticvictorianspirit @itsali-taken @merricatty @its-a-me-a-morgan @lilacrobin @adaydreamaway08 @starman-jpg @irethsune @starry-eyedlune @littlemsterious @7shrewsinatrenchcoat @lostonceandneverfound @a-gae-af-racoon @heartstarstar-blog @ignoretenderness @thehorrorandme @paintsplatteredandimperfect @vampireinthesun @ntwolf69 @thatonebadideapanda @jackiemonroe5512 @tinynebula @obliosworld @sleepy-time @daydreaming-mood @aizawa-emma @leethegay @irregular-child @just-a-tiny-void @evix-syne666

[smutinlove]

ANGSTTTT

reader runs away bc she hates enid but her father figure glenn adopts enid 😭

Carl finds her and u can finish the rest

ok bbg

it ends with a bit of fluff but enjoy!!

CARL X READER

You couldn't believe it. Your father, well, your father figure, Glenn, had taken Enid under his wing. Enid now lives with you, Maggie, and Glenn. It enraged you.

You loathed Enid. She, in your words, was a "deranged fucking bitch."

And maybe Glenn didn't love you as if you were his own. Maggie was also pregnant, meaning that there wouldn't be enough space for three kids. So maybe it was you who needed to leave.

And that's exactly what you did.

Once the clock struck midnight, you packed your bags and left Alexandria. You'd left your friends, family, and boyfriend (Carl). It wasn't like anyone was going to care if you left.

No one was going to look for you. That was the prophecy. You were destined to be alone, and you became self-aware of that thought every day.

You headed for the woods. It was a bit dark, and you didn't have your flashlight with you either.

You maneuvered the woods blind. But it was fine. You could just listen for the sounds of flesh-hungry walkers.

By the morning, you'd reached an old apartment building. You opened the door and were greeted by a few walkers. You used your knife to kill them. One by one.

You searched the first floor, killing walkers as you went. You decided it was best to stay here, on the first floor, in case anything happened.

You opened the door to a small apartment and settled down. It had a mattress on the ground and a small but empty kitchen.

You dropped your bag on the floor and laid on the mattress. You smiled. It was better than living with Enid. Totally better.

You decided that it would be better if you had some rest. Your limbs felt like they'd fall off. You closed your eyes, thinking happy thoughts, and slowly fell asleep.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You were having the most exquisite dream about living in a castle on clouds when suddenly everything started collapsing, and then you were met with a blurry figure hovering over you.

"Are you alright?" Your vision started to clear up, and the fog in your brain started to melt away.

You looked up, taking in the face in front of you. You knew him. Him. "Carl? How did you—" Carl cupped your cheek and whispered, "You thought that you could travel away from Alexandria and I wouldn't find you? You could travel to the end of the earth and I would still find you. Can't you see? You belong with me, Y/N. And I belong to you."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't help but smile. "You're so cheesy, Carl."

Carl grinned, "Only for you." He leaned in and kissed your cheek. Carl stood up and brushed the dust off of his jeans. "Let's go," he said.

"No."

"Yes, we are leaving." He took your hand and pulled you up. You wanted to go with him. But you couldn't. Glenn and Maggie definitely didn't want you. They were probably getting ready to kick you out. Luckily, you have already left, saving them the trouble to kick you to the curb.

"Fine, I'll stay," Carl said.

"Carl—"

"No, I'm staying until you come with me." You smiled. "I'll stay with you whether you want me to or not."

"Okay," you replied.

"Okay."

»»————<3———-««

Send more fluff/angst reqs for carl and maybe even jason or dick grayson. ;)))

[mercurygguk]

freaky deaky · jjk (m)

⤷ summary; being a worldwide superstar can be overwhelming at times – luckily he has you to help him get his frustrations out.

pairing; idol!jungkook x f. reader

rating; 18+

word count; 4.7k

genre/au; fwb au / idol au, smut/angsty and fluff if you squint

warnings; making out, swearing, fingering, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, nipple play, slight choking, aftercare <3

author’s note; been wanting to write something like this for a while so here you go – i hope you like it !! slightly inspired by ‘freaky deaky’ by tyga & doja cat

ps. ignore my typos, i was speed writing this kskdls

let me know what you think – don’t be a silent reader, thanks <3

Jungkook is well aware that he should be heading home, get into bed and sleep for a whole day. He has barely slept for a whole week, the nerves and excitement for his upcoming concert too overwhelming. It was simply impossible to calm down enough to fall asleep.

However, he’s headed in the opposite direction of his own penthouse apartment. Instead of his own home, he finds himself in a quieter part of the city, the buildings in this area much smaller than the skyscraper he lives in himself. It's past midnight, a few houses are still lit up but it seems most people have turned in for the night.

There’s a yellow hue in the window on the second floor of the small house he pulls up to. The roaring of his bike is loud in this part of town late at night but he can’t bring himself to care about anyone else – there’s only one person on his mind as he turns off his motorbike.

As he gets off his bike, he glances around him to see if there’s anyone who might spot him; a scandal with the media isn’t what he needs right now. When the coast is clear, he removes his helmet and makes his way to the front door, knocking on it a few times. His teeth are chewing his bottom lip as he waits in silence, staring at his feet while listening for the sounds of footsteps on the other side.

Half a minute later, the door opens. He looks up from his stomper boots, the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen meeting his. There’s a possible chance he just felt his heart skip a beat at the sight. 

You smile at him, opening the door wider for him, silently inviting him inside. 

His eyes never leave yours as he steps inside, closing the door behind him and locking it. You’re wearing your pajamas – a flimsy top that doesn’t do much to cover your bare breasts underneath and loose, small shorts paired with a pair of fuzzy socks to keep your feet warm. You watch him with impatient eyes as he puts his helmet down, kicks off his stompers and unzips his biker jacket. He’s impatient too, too impatient to even greet you. Instead he opts for the next best thing; kissing you.

A soft whimper leaves you the moment his mouth connects with yours, the sound going straight to Jungkook’s cock, blood rushing to the tip. The kisses are eager, hungry and rushed, probably bruising too. He pushes you backwards, pinning you against the wall. Goosebumps rise upon his skin as your hands slide into his black strands of hair, your hips buck against him. A low groan escapes his lips as his hands roam your body, sliding over your curves and underneath your flimsy pajamas top.

The sounds of moans and whimpers tumbles from your mouth as his mouth moves from your lips to your jaw and further on to your neck, open-mouthed kisses being left against your skin. His hands cup your breasts underneath your top, thumbs brushing over your already hardened nipples.

“How was the show?” You breathlessly ask him.

“Not important right now,” he manages to say between the kisses he’s showering you with. “Just need you.”

You whimper at his words as he bends to pick you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, hands on your ass to support you. His mouth returns to yours, tongues meeting with wet, lewd sounds as he makes his way upstairs with you in his arms. He knows the path to your bedroom too well at this point – it might be a sign that he’s at your place way too often but he can’t find it in him to care or contemplate what that might mean.

“Feels like I’ve been waiting forever for you to get here,” you admit as you enter your bedroom. 

Jungkook grins against your mouth, a soft chuckle leaving him as he puts you down on your bed. You watch as he stays by the edge of the bed, looking at you with those big, dark eyes that hold the galaxy in them. Goosebumps rise in the wake of his hands as he slides them from the top of your thighs and down to your knees, giving them a soft squeeze. He fixes you with a slight smirk, a playful glint in his eyes.

“You missed me that much?”

Flustered, you groan softly and avert your eyes to the ceiling. Jungkook can’t help but laugh at your reaction to his teasing question, getting rid of his biker jacket and t-shirt before crawling onto the bed, hovering over you. He gently grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him again. You’re glaring at him, a soft glare that makes his heart tingle in ways he didn’t know it could.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he quietly tells you, “I missed you too.”

The words leave him before he can think about the meaning behind them. He barely catches the way your face softens at his confession as he dips down and connects his lips to yours again, slipping his tongue past them to intertwine it with yours. You moan against his mouth, arms sliding around his neck to pull him down, as close to you as possible.

“Kook,” you moan his name against his lips as you feel one of his hands slipping between your legs, fingers pushing the flimsy fabric of your shorts to the side. His fingers touch your wet core instantly, your arousal coating his fingers. He groans against your mouth when he realizes you’re not wearing panties. “Please–”

“No panties, huh?” He muses, lifting his head just enough to watch the way your face twists in pleasure as his fingers slip between your folds, running up and down to collect more of your wetness. “You made yourself ready for me, mhm?  

You nod, your back arching and a whine leaving you as he sinks a finger into you, thumb pressing down on your clit at the same time. Your pussy sucks his finger in, your walls tight around it as he pumps it in and out. You’re already panting beneath him and he has barely done anything to you. He smirks, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Such a good girl,” he rasps before sliding down. You feel his breath brush over your skin as he moves down your body, tingles shooting through your body as he leaves occasional kisses on your skin.

Cold air hits your core as he tugs your shorts down, causing another round of goosebumps to rise upon your skin. He throws them over his shoulder, a soft thud reaches his ears as they hit the floor. A shaky sigh leaves you as he leans down, face leveling with your core. Jungkook smiles to himself as he watches your pussy clench, your folds glistening as he reaches up with his fingers, spreading them apart.

“Been thinking about eating this pretty pussy of yours all day, baby.”

The words fall from Jungkook's lips before he can stop them, feeling his heart freeze over for a second in fear of how that might have sounded to you. He feels relieved when all you do is whimper in response, core clenching around nothing, inviting Jungkook to come closer.

“Could barely focus at rehearsals…”

He wets his lips, leaning closer, his breath brushing your bare core as he hovers right above where you want him the most. You whine his name impatiently, desperate to feel his mouth on you.

“What was that, ____?” Jungkook hums, lifting his head to look up at you. You shudder, another round of goosebumps rising upon your skin when he leaves a gentle kiss right above your clit, the action teasing and torture all in one.

“Want your mouth.. please,” you whimper, fists gripping the sheets tightly.

Jungkook smiles, kissing your inner thighs softly before throwing your legs over his shoulders and tugging you closer by a tight grip on your hips. You yelp in surprise, a surprised gasp leaving you as Jungkook’s lips latch onto your clit, sucking roughly.

“Oh- god!”

Your hands dig into his black, curly hair, your fingertips tightening around his dark strands as he licks and slurps up your arousal, coating his tongue with it and swallowing it. He moans against you, the sound sending vibrations through your whole body, causing you to arch your back and digging your heels into his back.

Jungkook knows exactly how to eat you out, how to pleasure you to make you cum within minutes – his tongue sucking and flicking your clit is one of the safest and most effective ways to make sure you reach your high every time. He’s spent months learning everything about your body; what to do to make you cum quickly, where to kiss you to cause a shiver to run down your spine, where to touch you in order to have you pleading for more. 

He knows it all and it’s to his advantage as he sucks harshly on your clit, earning a whimpering whiny moan from you as your back arches off the bed once again, your chest rising and falling in pants of air as your orgasm sneaks up on you. He watches from between your legs, his mouth still working on your pussy as you reach your high – your brows furrowed together as you bite into your bottom lip, the orgasm rippling through you and causing your hips to jerk against his mouth, thighs trembling.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-”

The word leaves your lips repeatedly as you cum on his tongue, your juices seeping out of your pretty, perfect pussy; sweet and delicious on his taste buds.

“Oh my god… please fuck me, Kook-“

Jungkook swallows every drop of your orgasm, humming and moaning as he does so, the sound of your pleads for him to fuck you going straight to his hard cock. It’s straining against his jeans as he leaves a kiss right above your slit before moving up to hover over you. He smirks softly at you, tongue poking out to lick away the bit of your arousal that’s sitting at the corner of his mouth.

You let out a soft groan of arousal, hands reaching up to grab him by the nape of his neck to pull him down for a kiss. Jungkook grunts against your mouth as your other hand reaches down to cup his bulge through his jeans, giving him a soft squeeze. Jungkook is breathing heavily against your lips, pulling away just enough to meet your eyes. You whine at the lack of his lips on yours, giving his cock another squeeze. He grins mischievously at the desperate sounds you let out.

“You want my cock, baby?” He hums, slightly breathless because of your touch.

His pride grows as you instantly nod, a soft ‘please’ leaving your pretty lips as you lift your head to kiss him again. Jungkook welcomes your kiss, groaning against your lips. He reaches down to undo his jeans before covering your hand with his, guiding it inside his pants, silently urging you to touch him through his boxers instead. You obey, receiving a low ‘fuck’ from Jungkook as he moves his mouth to your neck again, kissing and nippling at your skin.

“Want me to fill this pretty, sensitive pussy of yours, hm?”

Jungkook growls the words in your ear as he finds your core again, fingertips teasing your wet and glistening folds. You whimper underneath him, goosebumps rising on your skin as he teases your clit with his thumb, the bundle of nerves sensitive from your orgasm just a few minutes ago.

“Yes.. want your cock so bad, Kook-”

Jungkook tuts, the lack of a certain word not going unnoticed.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, please-“

His lips curl into a smile as you obey in an instant, needy and desperate for his cock, to be filled to the brim and spread wide open for him to devour as he pleases. 

Jungkook removes his fingers from your heat, sitting up on his knees between your legs to look down at you. As if magnets connect the two of you, you follow and sit up, hands supporting you behind you as you look up at him; beautiful, intriguing eyes that are heavy-lidded and dazed as you stare at him.

Jungkook’s hand reaches out to cup your chin, tilting your head up as his eyes roam your face and down the expanse of your body. His eyes zoom in on your glistening pussy, clenching and throbbing in need of his cock. He smiles to himself as his eyes move further up, noticing the way your nipples are hard underneath your flimsy pajamas top, evident underneath the thin fabric and making his cock twitch in his boxers.

God, he needs to be buried deep within you right this second or he’ll lose his mind.

“On your hands and knees, princess,” he demands, thumb running over your bottom lip before he retracts his hand from your face. His soft and gentle touch causes you to take a few seconds to register what he said, your brain not catching up until he speaks again. “Now.”

He watches in amusement as you realize what he said, face twisting in arousal as you do as told and get on all fours in front of him, your back facing him. Jungkook’s smile widens into a smirk as you place your feet on either side of his knees, positioning yourself perfectly for him. 

“Pretty girl,” he hums as he reaches for your ass, grabbing two good handfuls of your flesh before giving it a squeeze, spreading your cheeks apart to reveal your holes; one of them wet and glistening with arousal practically dripping from it, the other tight and small, still untouched by Jungkook after all these months.

“Kook…” you impatiently whine, arching your back and pushing your ass closer to him, glancing at him over your shoulder. He looks so good – unbelievably sexy with his dark black hair and lip ring, tattoos covering one of his arms and hands.

Jungkook is biting his bottom lip as he continues to play with your ass cheeks, unable to keep himself from collecting a pit of spit before letting it drop to your hole, a surprised gasp leaving you as he runs his thumb over it, spreading it out in a circling motion. You let out a shaky breath, a delicate whimper escaping you as you press your chest to the mattress, ass in the air as he continues to circle your tight hole with his thumb.

“Would you let me fuck this tight little ass one day?” He suddenly asks, voice low and deep as he moves his gaze to watch you. The way your brows knit together and lips part in pleasure as he keeps on circling his thumb around your hole has his cock turning painfully hard in his boxers. “Hm? Would you?”

“Fuck- god, yes..” you moan, breathless voice and uneven breathing as you revel in the feeling of his slow and attentive touch.

“Yeah? You’d let me fuck you however I want?”

You nod vigorously and whimper, “yes.. would let you do whatever you want, Kook.. ah-“

Jungkook swears under his breath, the thought of fucking your ass making his cock twitch uncontrollably in his boxers. Unable to hold back any longer, he reaches down to pull his cock out from the right confinements of his boxers, fisting his length in slow, prolonged strokes as he guides his tip closer to your folds.

He huffs out a proud chuckle as you jerk and yelp in surprise when he presses his tip between your folds, prodding at your entrance teasingly. You whine impatiently, hands tightly gripping the sheets as you push back in an attempt to make his cock slip inside of you.

“So fucking needy,” Jungkook rasps, his words a growl in his throat as he rubs his tip up and down between your folds before slipping inside of you, pushing deeper in the slowest thrust he can muster. You moan delicately as he groans in pleasure. Your walls engulf him, sucking him in deeper and fitting just perfectly around his cock. “Fuck, you were made for my cock, princess-“

You let out a relieved, fucked out moan as he bottoms out, back arching as his hands slide over your ass cheeks and down to you waist. His fingertips dig into your flesh as he watches himself pull out and slide right back inside, lips parted as he settles into a slow, torturous rhythm.

“Ohh.. fuck- your cock feels so good,” you moan, moving back against him meeting his thrusts halfway.

“Yeah?” Jungkook grits as he uses his grip on your hips to pull you back on his cock, fucking deeply into you with every thrust, his tip hitting your cervix over and over. “You love being filled and stretched out, hm?”

“Y-Yes..” Your words are laced with a breathless moan, breathing ragged and following every thrust of his hips. The lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin fills the room every time your ass slams against his thighs. Your moans turn higher in octave as he picks up the pace of his hips. “Love it so much, Kook-”

Jungkook groans at your words, loving how your pussy just fits him, how easy it is for him to slip in and out again in smooth thrusts, his length rubbing against your walls over and over again. In need of your mouth on his, Jungkook slides his hands up the expanse of your back, pushing the fabric of your pajamas top up. He pulls it over your head, getting rid of it before closing his hands around your throat to pull you up. Your back stays arched, ass continuously slamming back against him as he tilts your head back by his grip on our throat. You whimper, becoming immensely wetter the moment Jungkook catches your lips with his own, his tongue melting with yours instantly. 

“You take my cock so fucking well..” Jungkook growls against your mouth, slipping one of his hands underneath your body to grip your breast, giving it a tight squeeze before pinching your already hardened nipple. A sudden feeling of possessiveness fills him as you moan his name, walls clenching around his length every time he buries himself in you. “My good girl-”

Jungkook is too caught up in the feeling of your pussy to even think twice about how his slightly possessive tone might have sounded in your ears. He can’t find it in him to care or worry about it as his thrusts turn slower yet harder, slamming into you over and over. He moans against your mouth, his hand on your breast sliding down to your clit to rub it in circles. 

“Wanna feel you cum around me, baby- can you do that for me?”

Another whimper escapes you as you weakly nod, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he rubs your clit in a circular motion, the bundle of nerves sensitive as hell, chills filling your skin as another orgasm sneaks up on you fast. Jungkook feels it all, the way your walls start to clench and unclench around him, how your breathing turns heavier than it already was, your moans becoming whiny whimpers as you near your high.

“Cum all over my cock, ____,” Jungkook growls, his lips now brushing the shell of your ear. “Let me feel it- come on…”

“Fuck- ah, Jungkook!”

“That’s it, baby- shit..”

Jungkook lets out a groan as you finally cum around him, the sound reverberating into your ear and sending chills down your spine. He continues to fuck into your perfect pussy, hitting deeply over and over again as he slams into you through your orgasm. You whine in sensitivity as he lets go of your throat, pushing you into the mattress, hands back on your waist as he chases his own orgasm.

“Gonna cum so hard, baby- gonna fill your pretty little pussy until it overflows..” he grunts as he slams into you, his thighs slapping against your ass as you whimper underneath him. One of your hands reaches behind you to grab his forearm, nails digging into his skin as his thrusts turn brutal and definitely leaving bruises for you to deal with tomorrow. Jungkook grits and swears under his breath as his hips stutter, his high sneaking a hold of him and pulling him under, tingles of his orgasm running through him as he fucks into you with a few more hard slaps before stilling inside of you. “Fuck-”

“Oh my god-” You moan as he slams into you one last time before stilling, the swear word he lets out in a growling tone sending a shiver down your spine.

Spurts of his orgasm fills you, white and warm cum painting your walls as he empties himself deeply inside of you. He’s breathing heavily as he grinds into you, riding out your highs. One of his hands supports himself on the mattress next to your head, tattooed hand gripping the sheets tightly as he tries to control his uneven breathing. Silence surrounds you as you come down, your hearts beating wildly in your chests and bodies buzzing with the aftershocks of your orgasms.

Jungkook isn’t sure what to say as he pulls out of you, hissing softly as his cock slowly turns soft the moment it’s freed from your tight walls. Your arousal and cum mixed with his own coats his silky shaft, glistening in the yellow hue of your bedside lamp. Jungkook leans down to leave a soft kiss on your shoulder, his free hand sliding up and down the side of your torso in a caressing stroke. There’s an unfamiliar feeling filling his chest as he lingers above you, leaving another soft kiss to your skin before removing himself from you entirely.

You stay lying on the bed as he makes his way to the ensuite bathroom you have. Out of routine and growing habit, he grabs a small hand-towel from your cabinet under the sink. He wets it with lukewarm water, his gaze on you through the mirror. You haven’t moved since he got off the bed and you’re definitely more quiet than usual. Jungkook lets out a frustrated sigh as he cleans himself up before wringing the towel under the water once again and returning to you.

“Hey..” He softly calls to capture your attention, gently tapping the back of your thigh to urge you to turn around. For some reason, he’s holding his breath, not sure what to expect when you face him. Jungkook feels his heart sink into his stomach as he watches you roll onto your back, eyes briefly meeting his for a split second before they shift to the ceiling instead, obviously avoiding his gaze. Not entirely sure what to do or say, Jungkook cautiously places a hand on your thigh to gently spread your legs so he can clean you up after making a mess between your legs.

He watches you intently as he starts cleaning you up. You let out a shaky breath as he touches your sensitive core with the damp towel. He wants to say something but he’s not quite sure what you want to hear right now or what he wants to say himself. He knows something has changed between you lately, especially from Jungkook’s side but he knows it will only cause more trouble than anything else.

“You okay?” He decides to ask instead as he finishes cleaning up his mess, an urge to make sure nothing is wrong overwhelming him because it feels like something might be exactly that – wrong.

“We should talk.”

Your voice is soft as you speak up. He stays quiet as you close your thighs and pull your sheets up to cover yourself, the sight of your beautiful naked body disappearing from his vision. He sits down on the edge of the bed and stares at you for a moment, chewing his bottom lip as nerves fill him.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks, his voice careful and quiet.

You shrug, frowning faintly as your eyes focus on nothing in particular for a second before returning to meet his, “you…”

Jungkook feels his heart melt at your answer yet it keeps beating harshly in his chest.

“Us…” You trail off, still frowning. “What we are and what we could be.”

“Could be?”

Jungkook can’t help but repeat your last words, intrigued by them and also very scared of what you might mean by them.

You nod, “yeah, you know… if you weren’t who you are.”

His heart sinks for the second time tonight, laying at the very bottom of his stomach with cracks in it because you sound so fragile as you admit what’s on your mind, as you talk about what you and him could be if the circumstances were different – if he wasn’t Jungkook of BTS but just Jeon Jungkook from Busan.

“Do you think that maybe… we’re wasting each other’s time?” You ask him, voice so small and careful he fears it might crack in a second.

Your question catches him off guard. 

When he rode his bike here, he didn’t think you’d end up in the middle of a deep conversation like this but here you are, talking about what you could possibly be if he wasn’t who he is, talking about how you might be wasting each other’s time by seeing each other, by being exclusive and only fucking each other, by having an arrangement with no strings attached.

Jungkook doesn’t feel like he’s wasted his time by being with you; in fact, you’ve probably made life a tiny bit easier and more normal for Jungkook. Being a worldwide superstar can be overwhelming and frustrating from time to time but he knows a night with you will remove every single hardship he comes across.

“No,” he finally says, shaking his head. “I don’t think we’re wasting each other’s time.”

“No?”

Jungkook shakes his head again, offering you a half smile along with a hand, silently asking you to come closer. You take his hand without hesitation, the gesture causing Jungkook’s heart to skip a beat. His smile grows a bit as he tugs you closer, pulling you into his lap, arms wrapping around your waist. Warmth spreads in his chest as you cuddle into him, your own arms snaking around his torso.

“This… arrangement of ours has been one of the few good things in my life lately,” Jungkook admits, his hands roaming your naked back, fingertips playing with the ends of your hair as he brushes his lips over the skin of your shoulder.

You lift your head to look at him, frowning at his words. “Is everything okay? Are you okay?”

The evident concern on your features has Jungkook smiling as he reaches up to tug a strand of hair behind your ear. He nods, “yeah, everything’s fine, I’m fine.”

“Jungkook…” You gently say his name, eyes shifting between his, “are you not happy?”

“I am,” he tells you, “it’s just… sometimes a life like mine can be kind of hectic.”

“I’m sorry,” you frown as you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers playing with his hair.

“It all gets better whenever I'm here though… with you.”

Jungkook watches your frown turn into a small and shy smile, the sight making his heart flutter. You’re so beautiful, he can’t stop looking at you, a constant urge to kiss you filling his body whenever he’s around you.

“You treat me like me, like Jungkook,” he admits, “and not like Jungkook of BTS.”

You shrug, smiling as your eyes shift from his eyes to his lips and back again. “Well, you are just Jungkook to me. You’re human like the rest of us, aren’t you?”

He smiles and nods, “yeah.”

“There’s no reason for me to kiss your butt and boost your ego,” you giggle softly, the sound sending butterflies flying in Jungkook’s entire body. He cocks an eyebrow at your words, smirking softly.

“And why’s that?”

You lean in closer, lips ghosting his. Jungkook’s arms tighten around your waist as you press your chest flush against his.

“Because I already have you right where I want you.”

[spdrvyn]

i'll be lonely with you — MIGUEL O'HARA

SUMMARY: with the passage of time and whispers from your acquaintances at the spider society HQ, you've found out that your boss has a habit of sneaking out of his office during the dead hours of night to eat dinner. completely alone.

NOTES: new formatting for fics !!! do you guys like it? :3 i decided to include summaries that way it would be easier for people to understand the general jist of the plot without me spewing nonsense in the notes. anyways enjoy !!!!! thanks for the support on my recent works as well ^_^

You didn't consider yourself the most introverted person.

Even when it came to hundreds of Spider-people, you tried to get to know who you could and become acquainted with as many of them as possible. How could you not?

However, there were few that you knew on a more personal level. People that you'd keep close to your side whenever you visited headquarters. People that you'd enjoy having an exchange of gossip with during lunch in the bustling cafeteria.

Miguel O'Hara wasn't exactly one of those people.

It's not like you didn't want to develop something more than a boss-coworker relationship. Though, conversations with him were always difficult, to the say the least. Most of the time, he's talking about work and anything that goes past that boundary goes unspoken.

Quite literally. You've forgotten the amount of times that you've built up the courage to mention anything about your other (not deceased) relatives or your friends and the amount of times that the room was filled with a silence so awkward that crickets are on the same volume as missile launchers.

Though, you didn't want to lose hope. You sort of understood where he was coming from. People go through grief and mourning in different ways, Miguel's was probably just isolation and a complete avoidance of discussions of personal life.

He was a leader. A good one. A trait of a good leader is to connect with their subordinates, establish relationships. So it really made you think.

How messed up was he that he missed that one quality?

"Hey. Your food's getting cold." There it goes, the sound of your train of thought leaving the station. Sometimes, you were grateful for Jess being there for you. She could snap you back to reality you like nobody else could.

You mutter an apology before stabbing your salad with your fork and taking a bite, Jess rests her head on her palm. Raising a brow at you, "So, did you want to eat lunch with me for fun or are you just using me to get info about Miguel? Again?"

Nervously, you shake your head. "It's nothing like that!" She leans in a little more, waving her other free hand in the air in a circular motion.

"...But if you have anything that you'd like to share then I'm not going to refuse entirely—"

"Oh my god. Fine, fine. What do you want to know?"

With that question, it felt like your mind blanked. You fidgeted with your fork, twirling a leaf of your salad against the plate as you pondered on what question to ask.

Jess responds with a deep sigh, "If you're trying to find a way to talk to him more, he doesn't leave that office of his much unless it's for work. He's in there most of time. Although..."

"Although?"

"Although, I've seen him come here normally somewhere around midnight to get a very late dinner alone. The place is less crowded, most are just in their own universe or sleeping or working."

Your face falls a little upon hearing that. "So I can only catch a non-serious conversation with him... in the middle of the night?"

"Exactly. Besides, there's a good chance he's going to just— continue talking about work with you whether he's in his office or not. You know that, right?"

You drop your utensil in defeat, burying your face shamefully in your hands. "I know..."

You quickly wrap up your lunch with Jess, as she shares bits and pieces about him. You had really wondered how she was able to learn all of these things about him anyway but before you had the opportunity to ask her, she told you to not.

Respecting her wishes, you keep your mouth shut. Respecting her even further, you decide to pack up both of your plates and wave her a goodbye before picking up those thoughts that you were left a while ago.

Admittedly, you didn't know why you were so persistent for something like this, for someone like him.

Determination was a strength of yours but that didn't mean that you didn't know where your limits rested and you would back off when you needed to.

There was just something. A swirling feeling in your gut that was telling you to keep going.

That it would be worth it.

So, you follow everything that Jess told you. Around midnight, he'd be alone, in the cafeteria, and looking for an empanada to snack on before heading back into his office. A very small fraction of his time left for personal conversation if you tried hard enough!

This most likely wasn't a good idea. You didn't sleep at all through the day but the thrill kept you alive and thriving. You confidently stride up to the counters of the cafeteria, picking out a small bag of chips for yourself and the last empanada for your soon-to-be snack companion.

Now, you wait.

You surveyed your surroundings and as you were doing that, you realize why he particularly emerges during these kinds of hours to eat. There was a significantly less amount of people.

Whenever you came here during the day, it was a miracle to be able to find completely empty seats. At times, you were forced to sit with a group of people.

You weren't entirely ungrateful for that though, you've made a lot of friends that way. Sure, it was awkward at first but the more you were forced to interact with people that way, the more you adapted to making small talk.

Even then, there were a lot of tables that were taken here save for one completely empty one at the far end.

Then, you finally see that navy and red suit.

Deciding to observe him just a little bit more, you watch him curse under his breath seeing the display case for the empanadas empty. Before he walks away any further, you tap him on the shoulder.

His mask was on, his eyes widen a little bit before you hand him the small box. "I saved the last one for you."

With a soft huff, you see the muscles in his shoulders and back grow loose once more, he hestitantly takes the container from your hands. Looking at it then looking back at you, "Thanks."

You two share a few seconds of awkward silence, you felt a little exposed. You decided to unmask for this because you wanted him to feel more comfortable talking to you rather than who you were as a Spider-person yet there's still that same awkwardness in the air.

Clearly without nothing to do and no idea on how to makem something better out of this, Miguel's about to walk off before you stop him once more.

"W— wait," A little piece of yourself dies inside as you hear yourself stutter but nevertheless, you keep going. "Uh, there aren't any other spots so is it alright if I sit you? I don't know any of the people here."

The way that you see the eyes through his masks narrow ever so slightly once the question escapes your throat makes your heart quiver like crazy.

You wanted to get to know him but damn, if you said that he didn't scare you sometimes then you would be lying.

You cry on the inside with sweet victory as he says...

"Fine."

That was it. That was all you got but you gladly take it! You have to catch up to him though because once you're done mentally celebrating, he's already a little bit far from you.

You try your hardest to keep your head straight but you can't help but look up and spare him one glance, the fact that you even had to look up at him really only emphasized your height difference with him.

Another factor that made you just a little bit more intimidated by him, his physique. You considered yourself to be of average height, you weren't the tallest person in the room but you were never the shortest as well. Just average.

The way he practically towered over you, his hand nearly being the size of your head. It made you feel something.

The moment that both of you have a seat, you take your opportunity.

"So, is there anything that you plan on doing after this?"

You get a little distracted once his mask comes off, he raises an eyebrow at you, crimson eyes that feel like they're looking straight into your soul. Though, side-tracked as he bites into the dough and meaty goodness of his empanada, with a shrug— he replies,

"Not really. Unless there's an anomaly I haven't heard of yet then I have no plans. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, nothing. Was just curious is all." Why was this so hard?!

The conversation goes as what you expected. You'd ask a question every moment or so and he'd give you a short response before going back to his food. He wouldn't ask you anything back, wouldn't add any 'unnecessary' comments. Just bask in the silence.

You simply couldn't take it anymore, you didn't know how to express your interest in him without asking him more questions about himself which he seems to avoid trying to answer.

You couldn't ask him about his hobbies because he'll most likely say that he's too busy working to actually spend time gaining and branching out to different interests.

Dejectedly, you sigh. "I'm sorry for imposing— on your alone time, I mean." It was like everything that you wanted to say just kept spilling out of your mouth.

"I didn't want to eat with you at this hour because I pity you or— or I found you lonely or whatever. I just thought that whenever you weren't talking about work, we'd be able to get along."

You stand up from your seat, eyes mindlessly darting arounf the labels of the bag of 'Spider-O's' in your clutches.

"I'll, uhm, let you eat in peace now. Once again, I'm—"

"Wait."

Which ever brain cells died from that interaction certainly reignited now. "Sit back down," It comes off an order. An order you certainly obey.

"I wouldn't have actually said yes to you if I didn't want to talk." He starts. "I know a lot of people but it's not in the same way that you do. I know their names, their faces, their canon events. You know their feelings, their mindscapes, and their troubles—"

"—And those are the exact kinds of things that I can't comprehend most of the time. We understand people differently, is what I'm saying. I still have no idea why exactly you sought out me of all people but I will... try to gain this new perspective of things."

You want to tamp down the smile that creeps up on your lips as you hear those words but you can't. What he said, it all made sense now. You couldn't see the full picture still, but you were willing to find it—

"I understand. It's fine."

"So? Do you have plans after this?"

Together.

[winwintea]

Secure that Once Upon a Time! - Zhong Chenle

PAIRING ↬ rich socialite! zhong chenle x fem! reader

GENRES ↬ idk if this counts as a foot fetish, cinderella core!, chenle takes her to a ball, rich x poor trope, people bully y/n for being poor, but also very fluffy and romantic

WARNINGS ↬ slight suggestive, no smut written out but implied !??

SUMMARY ↬ inspired by one of your favorite fairytales, chenle makes you feel just like cinderella for the night. but can you live up to society's expectations as the girlfriend of one of shanghai's most elite? an enchanting night with your prince may answer all your questions.

WORD COUNT ↬ 4.3k

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ yo so funny story! for reasons explained here i decided to take down a smau of mine called secure that card! however i felt bad about how the smau abruptly ended, and i didn't really give chen/n a happy ending?? SO HERE'S A VERY FLUFFY(?) fic i wrote as like an apology and compensation. you don't have to have read stc to understand this fic, it can be just read on it's own! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE SUPPORT <33 i appreciate you all.

For a moment, Chenle’s brows lowered, his frown casting a shadow across his whole face. He stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth, staring down at the mille-feuille piled high on it. He looked like he was thinking really hard about something, but what was it?

"Hey, Chenle.-"

Chenle suddenly broke into laughter

"What the-- why are you suddenly laughing like that?"

"Oh, nothing. I remembered one of our earlier conversations about the story of Cinderella and I was just thinking Cinderella sounds a lot like you."

"How so?"

Chenle snickered, "I can totally imagine you carelessly losing a glass slipper, panicking, and running away right before the prince's eyes, one shoe off, one shoe on."

"I wouldn't do that! I mean... I probably wouldn't." Okay, you could kind of see yourself panicking and doing something rash, but did he really have to point it out?

Chenle and you were currently engaged in a small feast of afternoon tea in Shanghai. There was an upcoming party he needed to attend as the successor to Zhong Enterprises and you decided to accompany him.

His beautiful smile had a suggestive edge to it, and you pouted, dropping your gaze. You reached for your teacup to distract yourself, but before you could pick it up, his long, elegant fingers wrapped around yours. "Well, if I was the prince, I wouldn't be stupid enough to let Cinderella get away from me like that.”

"Chenle." His smile was smug and sure as he squeezed your fingers, and you couldn't stop staring at him. He was just so sure of himself in everything. Although knowing him, you bet he’d probably succeed, too.

You started giggling, and Chenle’s smile instantly dissolved into a dissatisfied pout. "Hey. What are you laughing at?"

"Nothing. I was just imagining what you'd be like if you really were the prince.”

"Me?"

"If a prince as amazing as you were to appear at the ball.. I bet even Cinderella wouldn't care if the magic wore off at midnight, so long as she could stay with you." To be honest, if you were Cinderella you know you’d feel that way. Even if the magic wore off and you went back to your cinder-covered self, so long as you could stay with your prince–

The fingers holding tightly to yours let go, all of a sudden. You looked up in surprise, and found yourself staring at cheeks as red as fresh strawberries. As soon as your eyes met, he looked away quickly, refusing to meet your gaze again. Is he blushing? Geez, so adorable.

"Did you like being referred to as a prince?"

"Like-- would I- as if l'd-- not a chance! Although if you mean that I have all the fine qualities of a prince, then I can understand where you're coming from. But the only other person suited to being a prince besides me would be Renjun, you know." You couldn’t disagree with that. Renjun definitely had a princely aura that surrounded him.

You couldn't help but grin as you watched the conflicting expressions flitting across Chenle’s face. Being with him makes it so easy for you to forget all about being nervous.

You’re going to be just fine at the party, because Chenle will be there with you. Time seemed to fly by as the two of you relaxed and enjoyed your afternoon tea together. We were both smiling and happy as we stepped out of the cafe again.

"Ahh, those delicious cakes always give me back my energy! But I guess..." You turned to Chenle with a smile, about to suggest we head home, but you stopped mid-sentence as you saw how strained his

expression was.

"I just remembered something I need to do. You wait here."

"What? Right here?"

"Yes. Got it? Don't move so much as a single step until I come back." Chenle turned and began to stride away, casting one last dubious look over his shoulder as he walked off into the distance.

He worries too much. Where would you go, anyway? And what's so important that he suddenly has to rush off like that? You smiled to yourself, shaking your head as you turned to look in the windows of the nearby shops while you waited.

"Hey, did you hear? Chenle’s going to be attending the next formal party!"

You glanced in the direction of the voice, and saw several stylish young women sitting at one of the cafe's outdoor tables, chatting over tea. I couldn't help being curious, and You sidled a little closer, pretending to stare in another shop window as you listened.

"He sometimes attends parties in his position as ‘Zhong Chenle’, but--"

"It's rare for him to attend as the Zhong Enterprises heir, isn't it?"

"It is. Which means this is our chance to audition for the role of the future Mrs. Zhong!"

You're after Chenle? All of you?! From the little mandarin Chenle had taught you, you could kind of put together what they were saying. You pressed your lips together, your heart pounding uneasily in your chest.

"But I heard that Chenle’s got a girlfriend, and she came here from Stanford just for him."

"Who cares? The magic of love doesn't last forever, you know."

"That's right. She'll get bored soon enough and go back to America. She was never good enough for him to begin with."

Your whole body went cold as they all burst out laughing, and you barely heard their next words as the conversation moved on to clothes shopping. You’ll never get bored of Chenle, not in a million years, and you know he feels the same way. You can hold your head high and say that with pride. But... Right now you’re already so nervous just from the idea of wearing a pretty dress and attending a formal party. You and Chenle are from different worlds, and… you don't have the confidence yet to say that they're wrong, and that you ARE good enough for him.

The women's words filled your heart with an aching doubt that stayed with you over the next few days.

— 

At last the day of the party arrived.

You were wearing the most beautiful dress you’d ever owned, and yet you couldn't bring yourself to smile at your reflection in the mirror. You bet half the young noblewomen in Shanghai are vying for the spot of Mrs. Zhong. They all want to push you aside so they can stand at his side.

You know you love Chenle more than all of them combined, but--

"Y/N? I'm coming in.” There was a knock at the door, and you turned quickly as Chenle stepped into the room carrying a small box. "It looks like you're read...y." Chenle set the box down as he spoke, but as soon as he looked at you, he froze.

He just stood there, staring at you, and you couldn't make sense of his expression, but the longer the silence dragged out, the more nervous you felt. "Do I look weird, or."

"Did I say that?! No! No, I didn't! Really! Are you trying to cast doubt on all my careful efforts to choose the right dress for you? It really, really suits you! You're better dressed than anyone else in the whole world!" Chenle’s smile was proud and pleased as he looked you up and down, and the blush that crept up his cheeks made his words more real somehow.

Okay, phew. From the way he was staring– "Thanks, Chenle." not sure you really have it in you to smile right now. But if you stand here looking worried and nervous, you’re just going to make him worried, too. You managed to school your features into what you hoped was a believable smile.

"Really, Y/N. We're about to go to a party, so why are you looking so glum again?”

Well, that smile was a dismal failure, then."I'm not...?"

"Yes, you are.” Chenle strode over to where you stood, stopping right in front of you, and you blinked at him in surprise. He cupped your cheek with his hand, staring so intently into your eyes that you felt as if he were seeing straight into your soul. "Is something worrying you?" His voice was suddenly soft with concern, his expression gentle, and you felt a bittersweet ache in my chest

He really does care so much about me, and he wants to be sure you’re okay… But what can you say? ‘There's a bunch of noblewomen who want to marry you and they make me feel like an ungainly clod’? I mean, seriously? "I'm okay, Chenle. I'm just nervous, that's all." you reached up and placed your hand over his where it rested against your cheek, and this time you managed to smile properly.

His brow furrowed a little at your words, his eyes dropping to one side, and his long lashes fluttered against his cheeks. "Well, I suppose it's not really a surprise. You're not used to parties like this yet. But I bet this will chase all your nervousness away." Chenle turned slightly, pointing to the box he'd set down as he entered the room.

"What is it?"

Chenle smiled at your question, looking oddly triumphant. "I think you already look sufficiently charming, but… The look isn't quite perfect yet, is it? Now stop fussing and sit over there."

"Okay…” Chenle took you by the hand and led you over to the sofa, and you sat down, still wondering what was going on. A moment later he went down on one knee before you, the whole movement elegant and graceful. "Chenle? What are you doing?!"

"I'm casting the finest magic spell on you, Y/N." you were still staring at Chenle in surprise as he opened the box. Nestled inside the box were the most beautiful shoes you’d ever seen, decorated all over with tiny, elegant gemstones. "Once you put these on, you'll be perfect.”

Chenle lifted your right foot onto his knee, and slipped off the shoe you were wearing. You watched in quiet awe as he put one of the new shoes on your foot in its place. 

It's beautiful! You loved the way it sparkled! It almost looks like a glass slipper, just like Cinderella had! "They're gorgeous, Chenle! But what brought this on?"

"I came up with the idea when we were talking about the story of Cinderella.” Chenle carefully slipped your shoe off your left foot, and put on your new shoe, before moving to sit on the sofa next to you. "I thought the prince ought to give Cinderella the gift of shoes that were perfect for her. I couldn't get my hands on actual glass slippers, so I chose the shoes I thought would suit you best."

"Oh, Chenle…” This is why he suddenly went running off right after we left the cafe that day, isn't it? He was finding the perfect shoes for you! You felt warmed right through by his kindness, and for a moment you felt the pinprick of grateful tears in the corners of your eyes. 

"Now you've transformed into the perfect princess. So from here on, I'm not going to let you wear that gloomy expression when you stand at my side. Are you ready to be escorted by your prince?" 

"I definitely am! Thanks, Chenle!" You squeezed his hand gently, so happy that there was no need to fake your beaming smile, not anymore. He wasn’t kidding about casting a magic spell on you-- You almost feel like you dreamed all that worry and doubt from before! Suddenly you’re actually excited about going to this party! We're going to have a great time!

You walked proudly at your prince's side as he escorted you to the party in your Cinderella shoes.

— 

Everything seemed so perfect you found yourself wondering if you were dreaming the whole thing.

"You're not too bad at this dancing thing, you know." There was admiration in Chenle’s voice as we moved across the dancefloor in time to the elegant music. As soon as we'd finished greeting all the other guests, Chenle had led you straight out onto the dancefloor, and you were surprised by how much fun you were having.

"Only because you're leading me so well. I should've known you'd be a great dancer.”

"Well, naturally. I mean, just who do you think I am?" Chenle tightened his grip on you, pulling you closer until you were almost touching. "You weren't half bad when we went around greeting the other guests, either."

"Really?"

"Do you really think I'd lie to you?" 

You arched a brow at him, “Yes. Chenle. I do.” 

“Apart from the green card thing I mean…” He quickly added. 

He was greeting people as the heir to the Zhong family Enterprises, and you felt so nervous standing at his side, but– If he thinks you did a good job, then that's all that matters.

"You were elegant and dignified. I was proud to call you my partner. If you're going to stand at my side, then you certainly have to show at least that level of impudence."

"Impudence? Is that meant to be praise?"

"Of course it is."

It doesn't sound like praise, but– He look so happy about it that you’re just going to accept it as if it is. “Hehe! Thanks, Chenle.”

"You're welcome.”

You felt warm and giddy inside as we grinned at each other.

Hmm? You had the sudden sense that someone was watching you, and you glanced around surreptitiously. Wait, I know you… Several young women were standing off to the side of the dancefloor, staring very pointedly in your direction. There was no mistaking them-- they were the same young women you’d been eavesdropping on in the City a few days earlier. Even from a distance, you could clearly see the displeasure and annoyance on their faces.

"Y/N? Why are you looking away from me?"

"No reason! Sorry!" You quickly turned my gaze back to Chenle and gave him a bright smile, but you could still feel the women's glares. Ugh, it's like they were all throwing daggers at you with their eyes. You get that they all want to take your place, but-- ahh, you hoped none of them tried anything underhanded.

You were trying to focus on the dance again, but it was hard to lose yourself in the pleasure of it like you had before, not with those piercing stares.

At last the music ended, and the sound of chatting voices soon filled the room again. "Chenle, why don't I go get us something to drink? Do you want champagne?"

"Okay, but i'll come with-“

“Chenle!” The second you took a step away from Chenle, the young women came rushing in to surround him.

"Please, dance with me next!"

"No, with me!"

Whoa, whoa, whoa! The women pushed you somewhat forcefully out of the way as they crowded around him, and you stumbled, still not used to wearing such high heels. As you tried to regain your balance, you bumped into a waiter carrying a tray of glasses, and there was a sudden crash as they all hit the floor and shattered. You lost my balance for real this time and plonked down straight onto your butt, one shoe slipping off your foot and tumbling to the side. Could you have been any more dramatically clumsy?! Why can't you fall over quietly, just for once in your life?!

"Isn't that Chenle’s partner? How disgraceful, sitting on the floor like that."

Your cheeks were burning, you could feel them all staring, and all you wanted was for the ground to open up and swallow you whole. But as you stared down at the floor, frozen in confusion, an elegant hand suddenly appeared in front of you. 

"Give me your hand, Princess."

"Chenle..”

Your heart throbbed and ached at the tenderness in his eyes, and for a moment you forgot your shame. You gazed at that elegant, graceful hand, and reached out to place yours in it.

"Really, she's so disgraceful.”

"I can't believe she'd cause so much trouble for Chenle." 

Their voices intruded, bringing you back to reality, and you froze. You promised yourself you’d do everything right, so that you could be worthy of being Chenle’s partner. But here you were, causing him trouble--bringing shame to his good name, and– Your hand hovered just shy of Chenle’s, but you drew it back again

“Y/N”

Before you could pull my hand away completely, Chenle caught it firmly in his. "Chenle... I can stand up on my own. Let go.”

"No, I won't let go.” Chenle pulled you to your feet, and almost without thinking, you buried your face in his chest. You could feel his breath tickling your ear, and your heart began to pound again. "I can't believe you're making that face."

"What? Hey-I" Chenle scooped up your shoe from the floor, and a moment later he slid one arm around your back and the other under your knees. Before you could react, he lifted you into his arms, cradling you against his chest, and the buzz of whispers around you two rose to a roar. 

Chenle, were you seriously going to carry me in your arms across the dancefloor?! "Chenle! Everyone's staring.”

"Be quiet and stop wriggling, will you? We've done this dozens of times before. Why are you suddenly fussing about it now?"

He might be fine with this, but you’ve never been so embarrassed in your whole life.The young women who'd knocked you over were all staring at us as well, looking aghast and dismayed.

"You there, waiter. Are you all right?"

"Yes, sir! I'm perfectly fine! Please, don't worry about it. We'll get everything cleaned up right away."

"Then we'll leave you to it. My partner seems to be feeling unwell, so if you'll all excuse us." Ugh, is this ever going to end?! you just wanted to crawl into a hole and hide forever…

You  wrapped your arms around Chenle’s neck and buried your face in his chest so you wouldn't have to see all the people staring at you as you two walked past them. But Chenle seemed completely calm and unbothered as he sauntered out of the room, letting the mutterings of the crowd fade away behind us. A cool breeze ruffled your hair, and when you lifted your head, you found that he'd carried you out to the balcony, which was blissfully empty of other people. Chenle set you down in one of the chairs, and sat down next to you.

"Chenle, why are we out here?”

"I'm the one who should be asking you that."

"What do you mean?" you blinked at him as he leaned closer, his beautiful porcelain skin glowing in the moonlight. 

"Have you forgotten what I said before we came? I told you I wouldn't let you wear that gloomy expression at my side."

"Oh…. well..” you remembered him saying that, but-

"Are those women the reason you looked so unhappy? You weren’t sure if you should just open up and tell him why you’ve been feeling so down. If you did, it was just going to worry him more, and after all he’s done for you, that doesn't feel right. You gazed uncertainly up at him, trying to make up your mind about what to do. Something flickered in his eyes, and to your surprise, you saw a hint of doubt lurking there. "You were looking depressed even before we came here, weren't you? If there's something worrying you, stop hiding it and just tell me."

He knew all along, didn't he? He knew this was more than just you feeling nervous. And He’s already been worrying about you, all this time. "I can't help worrying that maybe I'm not really worthy of being your partner." If you’re not honest with him, if you keep hiding it-- that's only going to make him worry more. You need to tell him everything that's been bothering you. "I'm not used to parties like this. I'm not used to high society. To the way you socialites interact with each other. I've lived my whole life in another world, and I started to doubt if people would ever accept me as your partner. And right when I was worrying about that, I accidentally overheard some people talking about me. They said that the magic of love doesn't last forever, and that I was never good enough for you to begin with. And those words stayed with me. I couldn't stop thinking about them."

"I see.” To be honest, you don’t really believe that. you know the magic of your love isn't going to end. You know that he’s the only one for you, forever and always. But– 

"I love you so much, and I want to be worthy of standing at your side." 

Chenle’s eyes widened a little at your words, his expression startled. But a moment later you sighed softly, sounding almost exasperated somehow. "I can't believe you were really worrying about something so trivial."

"What do you mean, trivial?!"

"Worries like that are about as meaningful to me as a single grain of sugar." Chenle stood up from his chair, and before you could react, he knelt gracefully in front of you. He lifted your bare foot, and you shivered at the feel of his fingers against your skin. Without warning he pressed a gentle kiss against your ankle.

"Chenle--I" The warmth of his lips sent a shiver of delight running through you. If he kept doing things like that-

"I told you, didn't I? I'm never letting go of the impertinent woman who ran into my heart. And even if the magic spell I cast on you breaks, I'll always be here to cast another spell on you." He sounded so regal and dignified you could almost believe he really was a prince, and you watched in wonder as he gently slipped your shoe back on your foot.

He really means that, doesn’t he? And it doesn't bother him in the slightest that his spell was broken. His love for you was so pure and earnest, and it lit a gentle flame in your heart, a flickering glow that filled you with warmth. Ahh, I love that you're like this.

"Really. You're normally so brash and shameless, and yet you get hung up on the strangest little details." 

"Brash and shameless? Seriously?!"

"Well, it's the truth." There had to have been a way to say it that sounded less insulting! You pouted at Chenle, and he laughed suddenly, his expression brightening. "When we went to look at dresses, I told you to hurry up and get used to this. But it's fine if you take your time getting used to things-- to dresses, to parties, to everything.”

"Oh-- okay." For a moment you didn't know what to think or say, and you simply gazed at his sweet smile as he smoothed your hair back from your face and sat down beside you again. He’s more stubborn and frank than anyone you’ve ever met, and sometimes he’s a real tease and a bully, but-- he is so incredibly kind at heart. And that's why--

Everything you were feeling was flooding through you, and the only way you could express it was to reach out and wrap your arms around Chenlein a fierce hug. "Y/N?!"

"I love you, Chenle. I love you so much." You clung to him, letting his warmth seep into you and wishing you never had to let go. He’s the only one for you-- the only one who'll ever matter. You can't imagine being anywhere but right here at his side. You buried your face in his chest and whispered the words there, as if you could deliver them directly to his heart.

A moment later he spoke, his voice sugary-sweet, yet with a husky edge that set your heart racing. "It's very clear to me just how much you adore me.” He caressed your cheek gently, and you lifted your head, looking up at him. The stars in the sky seemed to dance in his eyes, captivating you with their ethereal glow.

You weren’t even sure which of you moved first, but suddenly we were kissing. His lips were warm, and he tasted so sweet that you wanted more. One kiss wasn't enough to tell him how you felt, and you kissed him a 2nd time, and a 3rd, desperate to share all my love and desire with him. 

"That's enough." Our lips parted suddenly as Chenle caught you by the shoulders and pushed you back. You were still trying to make sense of what was happening when he took you by the hand and stood up. "We're going home. Right now."

"What? Are you sure?" I mean… you could still hear music, so the party's not over yet.

"I've already greeted everyone in my position as the Zhong heir. The rest is the same old same old, and it will be over soon enough. And more importantly, right now I want you."

"Chenle--"

His voice had a sultry edge to it that promised you a lot more than just kisses, and a thrill of anticipation ran through you. "And I'm not planning on letting you go, not even when the clock strikes midnight. So I hope you're ready." He gave you a smile, and then turned and began to walk away, and you practically tripped over your own feet again in your eagerness to catch up with him.

You don't want him to let you go, not at midnight, not ever. This is no simple spell cast by some fairy godmother. He cast his spell on you the moment we first met, and you know it's going to last forever.

The air around us seemed to sizzle with passion and the promise of what was to come, and the trip home felt more like torture. But you knew that when we got there, he'd more than make up for it, as he cast his magic spell on you again and made you love him even more...

SUMMARY ↬ @marvelahsobx @lyvhie @odxrilove @jkslvsnella @aquaphoenixz @wonnieluv @acidwon @syatchy @sleepyvic @grassbutneo @chcnlcs @taeeflwrr @hibernatinghamster @jaeimjaemin @gukuwii @slayhaechan @yyangj3lly @onlyhyunjin @clean-soap @bath1lda @lostinneocity @defzcl @ckline35 @multifandomania @meltinghershey @foxy-kitsune @jising-jisang-jisung @minkyuncutie @zuzu-the-simp @dojaejunging @leehanascent @nosungluv @sunflowerbebe07 @h-aecat @layuhsblog @fae-renjun @w3bqrl @hyuckies18 @wonbin-truther @bugcattie @wony1e @lazysmushi @binniebunii @nctrawberries @galacticnct (tagged y’all cause i just wanted to say thank you for the support <33 IT REALLY MEANT SO MUCH TO ME 😭😭)

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

WHERE YOU LEAD ME, I’LL FOLLOW ; SUGURU GETO

synopsis; opening up is hard, even under the comfort of a starry sky, seated next to your childhood friend. fortunately, suguru knows you like the back of his hand.

word count; 10k (dont even look at me i got carried away ok….)

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, mutual pining, childhood friends to lovers (eventually. probably.), hurt/comfort (mostly comfort tbh), fluffy overall!!, reader is silly and suguru is down horrendous, written with a no curses au in mind, i’m madly in love with suguru geto and it shows

a/n; nothing goes harder than sugu w/ the childhood friends trope i fear. the angst potential, the fluff potential….. the slow burn of it all……….. anyways can u tell i miss him :’3

time goes by so very quickly.

as you look up at the starry sky, the thought envelops you like a fuzzy tidal wave; heavy, suffocating, entirely unavoidable. these days, sinking beneath its weight is all you seem to do.

a sigh flows from your parted lips. soft and quiet, somewhat resigned. the midnight air tastes cold and crispy on your tongue, turning into a flurry of vapour as you breathe it out again, watching it dissipate into the summer night. beyond the boundary of your vision, stars burn in tandem. all you can see is the darkness of the cosmos, pupils dilating as you take in the immensity of the world, the little flickers of starlight that glimmer in that all-encompassing veil of black — blooming out across the galaxy. 

the moon is beautiful, tonight. 

a big blob of reflected sunlight, smiling down at you so very tenderly, so gorgeous that it makes your heart ache. shining with a hazy kind of brightness, soothing like the lilt of a mother’s voice. 

and there’s a comfort, in the familiarity of the sight. because the moon is always, always there. always shining down on you, always when you need it most, even when it’s carved into a crescent or hidden by a blur of clouds. a view that never ever seems to change, no matter how many years go by. 

what a lovely thing to be.

another second lost, as you gaze into the nothingness of space. time keeps passing you by, never stopping — seconds turning into minutes, minutes turning into months. that incessant moving of the hands of the clock; tick, tock, tick, tock. over and over again. 

and, really, it’s a little bit scary. you think you might be terrified of time. you’re so afraid, afraid of being left behind, afraid that the world will turn its back on you and then walk away. afraid that everyone and everything will change shape before you know it.

but even in this always-changing, turbulent mess of a life — 

one thing remains the same.

”ah. there you are.”

(that voice.)

honeyed and smooth, but still rough around the edges. just a little husky. deep and familiar, etched into your brain; even if you were to forget everything else, you’re sure you’d still remember it. that familiar, familiar voice. it sounds like moonlit nights, and sunkissed kitchens.

it sounds like coming home.

a turn of your head. it’s a subconscious reaction, as natural as the beating of your own heart, memorized down to the very marrow of your bones — muscle memory, to seek him out after hearing the low timbre of his voice. you do it as if it’s the only thing worth hearing.

and suguru is smiling, when your eyes meet his. that gentle upward tug of his lips, small yet sincere. the one that always puts your mind at ease.

a warmth settles in your chest, at the sight of him. hair down, cascading over his shoulders and back, a little messy; as black as the night sky. a stark contrast to the white of his shirt, old, oversized, with some indie band on the front.

his eyes glimmer like little pockets of stardust in the darkness of the night. cutting through the haze, into your very soul.

”… damn,” you click your tongue, faux pout playing at your lips. ”how’d you know i’d be up here?”

suguru shrugs. ”lucky guess,” he lies.

of course i knew, he thinks. finding you is his specialty. always has been. like that one time he found you hiding under a table at your twelfth birthday party, or the time he found you crying in the woods when you got lost on your school field trip.

finding you comes easy, to suguru. almost like he’s always seeking you out, subconsciously or otherwise, always paying attention to your movements. you go south, and he follows. you go north, and he’s already waiting up ahead.

he’s worried. just a bit, is what he tells himself, but truthfully it’s more than that. because tonight was supposed to be for you. for the both of you, a celebration of your shared graduation — but before he knew it, you had slipped away. seizing the opportunity as soon as people grew too sleepy to notice. 

(sadly for you, no amount of fatigue could ever distract him from the lack of your presence.)

you look small, suguru thinks, curled up with your knees to your chest. sitting all alone up on the roof of his home, a place you’d always go to on nights when you couldn’t sleep. together, sharing whispered secrets and hushed laughter until the sun began to rise again.

back then, it felt like the two of you were the only ones awake in the whole world.

(the safest world he’s ever known.)

the distance between you grows narrower, as suguru makes his way over to you — and it always does, at the end of the day. no matter how much time you spend apart, that uncomfortable distance always, always ends up broached. one of you always moves closer. as if it’s unavoidable, two planets spinning around each other’s orbit.

suguru plops down right next to you, crossing his legs and leaning back. his knee bumps against the side of your shoe, and his shoulder grazes yours. it’s natural, as natural as the glow of the moon, this closeness between you. it reminds you of the gentle lapping of ocean waves at your bare ankles; on mellow summer days, comforting and familiar. a warmth that never goes away.

a brief inhale, and your heartbeat settles into a tender rhythm again. the scent that always lingers on suguru’s skin drifts throughout the air, mingling with your own — it can be hard to distinguish between the two, with how often you end up wearing each other’s clothes, but you could never mistake it for anything else. cedarwood and earl gray, with a hint of coconut-scented shampoo. enveloping every single one of your senses, grounding you in a way nothing else can.

leaning just a little closer to him, subconsciously, you let a fond exhale slip from your lips. barely audible. and suguru mimics it.

”of course i knew,” he whispers, voice gone soft. ”i know you.”

(your chest tightens. it doesn’t go away.)

another tiny breath flows into the air, as you gaze up at the stars in wonder. ”… yeah.”

the silence between you is a comfortable one. always has been. a little fickle, always shattered by one of you before long — usually you, though suguru isn’t much better. 

but this time, he stays silent.

he’s waiting. you know he is, because he always does. he’s waiting, waiting for you to break the silence first. waiting for you to say something, tell him what’s wrong, explain why you’re up here instead of celebrating with the others. waiting for you to explain why your eyes have looked so tired, this past week.

(you’d like to ask him the same thing. he’s an idiot if he thinks a little makeup is enough to hide those dark circles from you.)

suguru is nothing if not patient. so he waits, unbothered by the silence. admiring the stars, and the flicker of their light. a vague worry simmers in his chest, however, and he can’t stop himself from glancing down at you every now and then.

an insatiable yearning to soothe you gnaws at his heart — but he can’t, not unless you let him.

a sigh drops from your lips, suddenly. deep and heavy, like a rock thrown into the depths of a lake. the silence breaks. 

”hey, suguru.”

the man in question doesn’t speak, only emitting an inquisitive hum. he doesn’t look at you, either; a form of respect. knowing you’ll find it easier to get whatever’s bugging you off your chest without him scrutinizing you. 

the pads of your fingers tap at the tiles of the roof. an absentminded habit, as you inhale a bit of the midnight air. it tastes like summer. ”do you remember how we first met?”

suguru glances at you, a surprised glint in his eyes. he can’t help himself — unable to resist the temptation of seeing your face, drinking in your expression.

then he chuckles.

”haha.. are you feeling sentimental?” he teases, a lighthearted sense of amusement in his voice. bubbling up like seafoam. ”did you come out here just to brood?”

the corners of his lips quirk up when he hears you huff, hugging your legs closer to your chest with a furrow of your brow. cheek squished against your kneecap as you meet his gaze.

”c’mon,” you whine, pouting childishly in a way you know will make him give in. ”just indulge me a little…”

suguru smiles. it’s soft around the edges, smoothed over with an unmistakable fondness — and he does indulge you. he always does. ”of course i do,” he assures you.

the silence that settles between your words is tender. a mutual understanding, of sorts.

of course i remember. how could i not?

”you broke into my backyard.”

a sigh. heavy and sharp, as it tumbles from your lips, and suguru has to bite back a grin. his eyes shine with something teasing, in the dark, when you shoot a glare his way.

”okay, first of all —” you begin, ”i didn’t break into anything. i climbed over the fence. peacefully.”

suguru raises a brow. ”that literally doesn’t matter? it’s still trespassing.”

”i was seven years old!”

”some criminals start young.”

another harmless little huff, as you halfheartedly try to sound annoyed. it doesn’t work. in an attempt to hide your growing smile, you tuck your face into your knees. ”whatever.”

then your gaze shifts. towards that expanding starry sky, the vibrant flicker of the moon, like a moth to a flame. helpless to its charms. it looks like a giant sponge cake, the kind you and suguru used to make when that was the only recipe you knew — you’d eat from the batter, and he’d scold you. then he’d do it too, when your back was turned.

a smile settles on your lips. in every star, you find a new memory; and the fuzzy nostalgia that engulfs you makes your heart feel bare. ”i just wanted to pet your cat,” you recall, softly.

suguru nods. gazing down at you, basking in the expression on your face — peaceful and relaxed, a little more yourself. so effortlessly pretty, bathed in moonlight. ”yeah. i remember.”

he allows the memory to sweep him away, for a second or two. recalling the sight of you, all those years ago, an unfamiliar child in his backyard. it was like you had just fallen out of the sky. quiet and meek, but looking at his cat with an excited glimmer in your eyes.

”you just pointed to her and expected me to understand,” he continues. a grin blooms on his face, hopelessly endeared. ”you were shy back then.”

a raise of your eyebrow. ”um? i’m still shy?”

suguru gives you a look. he doesn’t have to say anything — it’s written all over his face. the classic suguru look, the kind where you can tell he’s itching to say oh, really now? the kind where he tries to look judgemental, but never quite manages to hide the amusement in his eyes.

a small giggle leaves your lips, and suguru smiles, once more. so helpless in the face of your joy.

”then we watched movies at my place.”

you hum. ”it was fun.”

”yeah.”

another bout of silence. soft, terribly precious. the air is chilly, but not enough to make you shiver; a mild summer night, pleasant on your skin and light on your heart. a gentle breeze tousles your hair. in the distance, you hear cicadas buzzing — a familiar sound. unchanging.

(if only everything else could stay the same, too.)

”do you remember what movie it was?”

a lazy smile plays at suguru’s lips, when he angles his face to look at you. one eyebrow raised. ”is there a point to this, or —?”

”i just wanna reminisce.”

suguru pauses. your eyes trail across the view that stretches out before you, from the moon to the distant city lights, as you fidget absentmindedly with the strings of your hoodie. he thinks to himself that you look a little lost. gaze forgotten, within the depths of that endless night sky.

no more teasing, he decides, tactfully. instead, he opts to answer your question; softly, as if he could hurt you if he raised even a single octave of his voice. ”whisper of the heart,” is all he says.

a hum, as you nod. decisively. ”the best one.”

suguru turns his head away, and mutters something under his breath. but you can still hear him — and you know he wants you to.

”spirited away is the best one…”

out of the corner of your eye, you shoot him a thoroughly unimpressed look. he bites back a soft bout of laughter, teeth sinking into his lip gently, not enough to sting.

”you’re so basic,” you grin.

”you just want to feel quirky,” suguru shoots back, instantaneous. ”and you only like it because of seiji.”

”you only like spirited away because of haku!”

suguru closes his eyes, and leans back a little, crossing his arms in a childish fashion — and you know he only does it to make you laugh. ”i don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lies.

”oh please,” you scoff. ”you really think i don’t remember your queer awakening?”

”hm? what was that?” feigning confusion, he puts a hand to his ear. but there’s a mirth in his eyes, impossible to miss. ”you’re gonna have to come closer, i can’t hear you from here.”

another unimpressed look. you exhale, something in between a huff and a chuckle. ”if i get any closer i’ll be in your lap, dumbass.”

suguru bites his cheek, softly. gulping down the words that almost slip off his tongue.

(i wouldn’t mind.)

”sorry, say that again?”

a little push meets his shoulder, as you roll your eyes. ”yeah, yeah. whatever.”

the banter dies down, as fast as it appeared. then a smile breaks out across your faces, in tandem, the atmosphere shifting into something more sincere — and doesn’t it always, when you’re watching the starry sky with the one you love most?

when suguru continues, his voice has taken on that softer tone, again. the one he only ever really uses around you. ”i liked thinking of us as them,” he admits. ”me as haku, and you as chihiro.”

a soft blink. then your smile grows, sweet like syrup. ”.. hehe. that’s funny,” you cross your legs. palms flat against the roof, knee leaning comfortably against suguru’s. ”i always thought of us as seiji and shizuku.”

there’s something faraway, in your eyes. something suguru can’t look away from.

tentatively, his fingers dig into the skin of his palms, and he speaks. absentminded, a little uncertain.

”… they get married at the end, don’t they?”

a pause. then your gaze snaps over to suguru’s, suddenly mischievous — and he regrets opening his mouth.

”oh?” you purr, almost beaming. inching closer, like a predator sizing up their prey. ”oh shit? are you about to propose, mister geto?”

”i’m just stating facts,” he quips, hands raised in defense. desperately hoping you won’t notice the red tint crawling up his neck, obscured by the darkness of the night.

”incorrect facts,” you grin. if you notice the blush on his face, you don’t say anything. ”they get engaged. not married. big difference.”

suguru huffs. it’s small, as he tries to keep himself from smiling. the beating of his heart is faint, a tender rhythm, stirred by every move you make. he pushes the words he yearns to say back down his throat.

(i wouldn’t mind that, either.)

again, silence blooms. curling around the space between you. it feels nice, just to be like this; just you, and your very best friend, under the soft lighting of the moon. as if you’re the only ones who exist, in an otherwise empty universe — devoid of space and time. like the night could just stop, and stretch on forever. 

there’s an unspoken question in the air, though. one suguru is still waiting for you to answer. one you refuse to answer properly, until he does the same.

you’ve both noticed, of course. even if no one else has, neither of you could ever miss it. suguru has noticed the turmoil in your eyes, and you’ve noticed the fatigue under his. those little signs of stress, as everything around you keeps spinning on; as the future grows closer, with every passing day.

(it’s overwhelming, you both muse.)

— and finally, you’ve had enough.

”suguru,” you call out, and his gaze finds yours instantly. ”have they been stressing you out, lately?”

suguru blinks, eyelashes fluttering softly. a little sleepy. they.

then he smiles. maybe a bit weak, but still as sincere as always — resigned to the fact that he really can’t hide anything from you, after all.

(of course you’d notice it. he was stupid to think you wouldn’t.)

a hum, as he breathes in the air and then exhales it all. trying to formulate the words inside his head, turn the feelings into syllables. and you’re patient. silent, as you admire the way moonlight caresses his skin.

”i’ll manage.” is what he finally says, and your lips curl down into a frown. ”they’ve just been getting on my case, again. you know how they are.”

suguru closes his eyes, and you inch closer to him. barely, by a hair, just to let him know you’re still listening. that you’re waiting for him to continue.

it’s tough, for him. opening up, being vulnerable.

but he knows you won’t do it unless he does, too. so he takes that leap, despite the insistent voice in his head urging him to just keep it to himself.

”it’s just… all these expectations, you know?” he meets your eyes, a little sheepish. downplaying his troubles so smoothly, as if you wouldn’t notice. ”i’m used to it by now, but sometimes i guess it still gets to me.”

you hum, and he continues.

”i feel like i have to be… solid,” he decides on. ”put-together. responsible, and mature.” a sigh, as he wrings his hands together. ”and that’s fine — but it’s like they have everything planned out. like everyone does. how i should act, where i should go…”

suguru gnaws at the flesh of his bottom lip, so focused on verbalizing his thoughts that he barely notices your fingers curling around his. but he still squeezes them, lightly. as naturally as breathing.

”it’s like my future’s already set in stone. and i’m just expected to follow it,” he looks up at the moon. ”which is also fine. i already know what i want to do. but somehow, all of it just feels so…”

he pauses. unsure of how to put it.

”… suffocating?” you finish for him. 

there’s a second in which suguru can do nothing but breathe. as if frozen, stuck in motion, caught off guard by how deeply your minds are intertwined.

— what a wonderful thing, to have someone pluck the words you’re afraid to say from the back of your throat.

a smile blooms on his face, and a gratitude shines in his eyes. almost overflowing. 

(you’ve always been the only one who ever seems to understand.)

”yeah,” he sighs, relieved. and suddenly his chest feels a lot lighter. odd, how just the tilt of your voice when you say a certain word can chase that discomforting sensation away. 

”don’t listen to them,” you say, assuredly, so softly it’s like you’re coaxing him into believing you. it works. ”they don’t matter.”

suguru chuckles, rueful. ”they’re my parents.”

”so? they aren’t you.” you nudge his side with your elbow. ”they have no say in how you live your life. you don’t need to live up to all those expectations, you know.” 

a soft little breath leaves your lips, and suguru wonders how you seem to always soothe his heart so easily. ”you just need to be suguru,” you mumble, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. ”that’s all.”

a moment passes. suguru parts his lips, closing them again when no sound comes out. and then finally, he speaks.

”… yeah,” he muses. ”maybe.”

”definitely,” you huff. ”trust your best friend. i know best.”

”careful,” he teases, tilting his head lazily to meet your gaze. ”you’re starting to sound like them.” the smile on his face only grows when you gape at him, wholly offended, as if you can’t believe what he just said.

”wha — suguru…” you whine, sleepy, clinging to the sleeve of his shirt. digging your nails into the fabric and tugging on it childishly. ”don’t say that. i’m nothing like them!”

a giggle pushes past his lips. ”sorry, sorry,” he soothes, ruffling your hair with his palm. rough hands, big and warm, that always seem to find their way to your skin. ”i’m just kidding. thank you. really.”

the smile that he gives you glows brighter than the moon. he squeezes your hand, softly — a silent i love you. eyes closed, formed into little crescents, and when he speaks he sounds so painfully sincere. 

”i think i’ll be fine as long as i have you,” he says. it comes out sounding something like a prayer. 

the words make your eyes soften. melting into a mellow hue, so full of affection that you can almost taste it on your tongue. 

”everything will turn out fine,” you murmur, consoling him. still not letting go of his hand. ”you have your whole life ahead of you, you know.”

he chuckles. the sound would be sweet if it didn’t have that teasing tilt to it, the one that tells you his amusement is at your expense. ”now you’re starting to sound like my grandma,” he quips, as if itching for something to bicker about.

but you only pout, and let your fingers slip from his. the warmth that leaves you is so jarring that you’re almost tempted to take his hand into yours again — but you just frown at him. ”i can never win with you, huh?”

suguru shrugs. ”need to keep you humble,” he chirps, pulling at your cheek gently. a lazy grin on his lips. ”we don’t want that ego of yours to grow as big as satoru’s.”

trying to keep yourself from grinning with him, you slap his hand away, playfully. ”that would never happen.”

”uh-huh.”

you give him a look.

”my bad.”

a moment passes. gradually, you feel your heart beginning to melt — just a little, but enough to get your voice hopelessly soft on your tongue. the glimmer of the moon embraces every cell in your body, painting over your features with a certain kind of bleeding tenderness. it’s hard to stop it from seeping out.

”you know that i love you. right?” tumbles from your lips, breathed out into the sky, words too heavy to be held back. ”even if your parents give you trouble, and everyone else, too — i’m still on your side.”

”always,” you promise, devotedly earnest. meeting his gaze. and suguru can’t look away.

something flickers, in the depths of his eyes, like a shooting star. something delightful.

he doesn’t quite know what to say. but he nods; almost meek, in a way, and it makes your chest ache. suguru’s always been the type to keep his troubles to himself, content with never letting anyone see into his heart — even if he’d like them to deep down.

if you can be there for him, even just for a night, then that’s more than enough.

he lets the silence linger for a while longer, soft breathing and the rustling of grass filling the space where your words would be. then he looks at you with newfound determination, suddenly, eyes shining in a way you don’t recognize. 

”— and you know that i love you, too.” 

a moment passes. 

an affirmative hum buzzes in your throat, and you give him the ghost of a nod, shying away from his deep gaze. hoping to escape the intimacy of the question. but he doesn’t let you, stare so heavy that you have no choice but to meet his eyes again, after he nudges your hand with his.

the words that fall from his lips surprise you. something akin to a pout plays on his lips, but it’s more serious than that — he looks dejected.

”… do you, though?” he pushes, a troubled frown on his lips. ”do you know that i love you? just as much as you love me?” 

at your stunned silence, suguru sighs, bringing a hand up to smooth over the crease between his brows. ”sometimes i worry that you don’t,” he admits. ”you always think too much. but i don’t want you to ever have to worry about that.”

his voice is firm, when he continues. ”i don’t want you to ever second-guess my love for you,” he declares, and you cower a little under the intensity of his gaze. playing with your fingers instead of looking at him. ”— so i want your answer.”

when his hand finds its way to your face, you stiffen, just barely. but it’s soft, the way he cups your jaw; the warmth of his palm smoothing over your skin. gentle, as he forces you to meet his eyes, tilting your chin up slightly. a bold move, even though physical contact is no stranger in your dynamic. you feel your heart pick up in speed. 

”do you know that i love you?” he asks, and it sounds almost pleading. you can only find it in you to stare. 

suguru’s eyes are filled with something, something you’d like to call love. and they’re looking deep into yours, almost as if coaxing you into drowning in their hue. mesmerizing. ridiculously pretty. if you stare into them for too long, you fear that you might never be able to look away.

but they’re sweet, and warm. painted over with worried hue, something very kind. familiar. the same eyes that have soothed you for as long as you can remember. 

in your flustered state, you can do nothing but blink dumbly — gaze darting from his eyes, to his forehead, to the sky, to his lips. 

he can tell the eye contact makes you nervous, but some part of him won’t allow you to squirm away. this is important. he needs to know that you know. he doesn’t think he’ll be able to sleep at night, otherwise.

finally, you squeak out an affirmative yes. and that’s all it takes for him to relax; in one smooth motion, his hand leaves your skin, a relief having bloomed in his eyes. 

”okay. that’s good,” he exhales. 

swallowing down a gulp, your gaze drifts away from the boy to your left. suguru is terrifying, really — doing stuff like that out of nowhere. you check your pulsepoint, discreetly, just to make sure your heart is still beating. 

”alright, then,” he suddenly proclaims, breaking the fleeting silence. ”your turn.”

a blink. your eyelashes flutter in confusion, as you gaze up at him, a question painted on your features. suguru glances at you out of the corner of his eye.

”you’ve been stressed, lately,” he remarks. stating the obvious so you don’t have to. with a soft gaze, eyes that shimmer with understanding. ”i can tell, you know?”

(yeah. he always can, can’t he?)

”… uh,” you croak. clearing your throat and attempting to gather your thoughts, hoping the words will find their way to your lips. ”well. i dunno, really...”

suguru emits a low, affirmative noise, not looking at you. opening up like this makes you feel so uncomfortable. but it’s suguru. you trust him. and you know he won’t let you get away from this, either; he’ll stay up all night if he has to. just waiting for you to put your faith in him.

a sigh leaves your lips, finally, and it comes out sounding just a tad exhausted. ”i… guess i’ve just been thinking, lately.”

and, really, it’s an understatement. thinking is all you’ve been doing, for these past few weeks. thinking of this, and of that. the past and the future. him and you.

suguru hums. an unspoken encouragement.

”everything is just so…” you move your hands, haphazardly, hoping they’ll make the words easier to say. but nothing comes to you. everything is all jumbled up, inside your mind, and it’s just — 

”overwhelming,” you finish. the word falls off your tongue like a tidal wave. ”everything passes by so quickly, and…” you bite your lip. ”i feel like i can’t catch up. i can’t visualize the future at all, and that’s…”

(it’s scary.)

”— it just makes me feel confused.”

suguru waits. patient, attentive, making sure you get all the words out before he speaks. as grounding as the moon, as warm as the sun. 

when you don’t elaborate further, avoiding his gaze, he opts to finally soothe you.

”that’s understandable,” he chimes, voice buzzing with care. ”you don’t have to think about the future right now. living in the present is enough,” a breeze drifts by, tousling his black hair. ”.. it’s for the best, really.”

a smile. it’s a little sad, as you wring your hands together. ”i know,” is all you can say. because you do. it just doesn’t change anything.

the sensation of your nails scraping against the tiles of the roof is discomforting, but you don’t stop. when you part your lips, your voice comes out tiny. barely above a whisper.

”i’m so afraid of change.”

suguru looks at you. his gaze softens, impeccably.

”everything keeps changing. all the time,” you bite into the flesh of your cheek, harshly. ”i hate it.”

”that’s understandable, too,” suguru soothes. tentative, as his hand goes to rest on your head, smoothing down your hair gently. ”change is unavoidable. but you get better at dealing with it.”

”mm, i know.”

”and some things stay the same, too.” 

you glance up at him, and his eyes crinkle. there’s something unspeakable in them, something that’s always been there. light and heavy, all at once. something a little bit too wonderful for words.

suguru smiles. almost a little shy, as he looks into your eyes. ”like you and me.”

…

a deep love unfurls in your chest, warming you up from the inside out. fuzzy and tingly. but with it comes a deep sadness, bittersweet, that you can’t chase away no matter how hard you try; like a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of your shoe, no matter how many times you try to scrape it off against the concrete.

like you and me.

(he doesn’t know that’s what scares you the most. the thought of that one thing changing, while you just stand there, helpless to stop it.)

”yeah,” you breathe. a wounded little breath.

suguru notices it, despite your vague attempts to act like nothing’s wrong. he notices the fear in your voice, the uncertainty. and once again, he gets the impression that you look a little lost. like you aren’t sure where to plant your feet.

it bothers him. an itch he wants to scratch away. but before he can get to the bottom of it, you begin to speak, once more.

”with you, it’s like…” a breath flows from your lips, as you try to find the words. but this time, they come to you with relative ease. ”if i could do my life over again, and make everything turn out different… then i’d still always keep you.”

silence. you continue, suddenly a little embarrassed at the honesty in your tone. but it’s too late to back out now. 

”and even if everything else changes, if i could pick just one single thing to keep — then it’d be you, too.” the smile on your face is small, a little sheepish. “that’s how it is, so…” 

you trail off. not sure what else to say. suguru isn’t, either; he feels just a little bit stunned, in the face of your sincerity. yet he parts his lips, softly, words making themselves manifest before his mind can even begin to catch up.

”i don’t think i’ve ever told you this,” he begins, not entirely sure where the words will take him. blinking up at the sky, entranced, whilst you look at him quizzically. ”you always call me your guardian angel, right?”

the question makes your lips curl up. it’s a habit of yours, one that’s become almost muscle memory. you don’t remember how it started, but it’s in everything suguru does; from the way he can always tell when you’re feeling overwhelmed, to the way he never fails to bring you a coffee right before your exam starts. 

suguru is always looking out for you, even when you’re apart. like a guardian angel. yours.

you nod. ”because you are.”

suguru smiles, breathing out a fond chuckle, and then shakes his head. ”it’s the opposite.”

you turn to the man beside you, and he’s already looking at you. with his pretty, soothing brown eyes, the barely visible dark circles beneath them. his gaze is warm and fond, grateful in a way that makes your chest squeeze tight. you melt a little, under its weight.

”you’re my guardian angel,” he says, sickeningly sweet. ”always have been. even back then.”

inhaling the mild air, suguru lets his eyes flutter shut. the taste reminds him of the summer vacations you used to have as kids, when you would ride your bikes to the nearest river and play all day. stopping by any ice cream stand you found on the way there; you always took a bite out of his without asking, and he always tried to get angry at you. but he never could. 

on your way back home, the sky was always dark. a soothing blue hue, stars glittering in the distance, while the moon looked close enough to touch. a night just like this one. you’d walk, together, talking about everything and nothing — sometimes he’d carry you on his back. not once did he drop you. 

a breath, deep and drawn out as he exhales, basking in memories you aren’t privy to. a saccharine smile painted on his lips.

”without you…” he muses, voice a little breathless. fond, and somewhat helpless. but he’s smiling. ”i don’t really know what i’d do, to be honest.”

a moment passes.

”it’s the same for me,” you echo, words escaping your throat before you even get the chance to realize their weight. gaze stuck to the stars, as always. ”i can’t imagine life without you.”

suguru doesn’t speak, afraid that his heart may crawl out his throat if he does. the honeyed smile on his face says more than words ever could, anyway. 

a small bout of laughter leaves your lips. sudden, sad, dripping with longing. it surprises you, catches you off guard — like something within you just overflowed. 

“you know what my biggest fantasy was?” you grin, ruefully. maybe just a little manic. ”i used to think about it all the time, when we were kids.”

suguru looks at you in silence, but there’s a confusion in the way he tilts his head.

there seems to be a knot of some kind, stuck in the very bottom of your chest. something that makes it hard to speak. ”i’d get on a train, and just kinda… leave,” you breathe, hoping it’ll unclog your throat. it doesn’t. ”you know? to somewhere far, far away.” 

and suddenly, the world grows just a little blurred. suguru can see it, in your eyes — you’re someplace else now. gaze trained on something he can’t see. there’s an amused touch to your voice, but also something rather pitiful. a childish wish that never came to fruition.

there’s regret, there, suguru thinks; something close to pain.

”maybe, like… a small port town,” you continue, closing your eyes. “with a cute little café close by, or whatever… somewhere you can see the sea.” 

another breath. you pretend it tastes like salt, like an ocean breeze. then you swallow the lump in your throat, and whisper. ”with you.”

when you finally muster up the courage to meet suguru’s eyes, they shine with nothing but pure understanding. he doesn’t say anything, but he understands. he’s always been like that. not a single word is needed for him to ground you, the way a rock always meets the bottom when it’s thrown into the depths of a lake. 

suguru’s comfort is as natural to you as the gravity that keeps the stars up in the sky.

the voice you’ve grown so used to hearing reaches your ears again, and it’s a low sound, a little raspy. but soft. achingly so, enough that you could almost miss it if you weren’t always so aware of every word that falls from his lips.

suguru looks up at the moon, in tandem with you, and lets the ghost of a smile show. ”… you know what my biggest fantasy was?”

his gaze is sincere, a little forlorn; hopelessly softened, as you meet his eyes. they’re painted over with something sweet, and something that looks just a little bit like regret.

a tilt of your head beckons him to continue, and the corners of his lips curl up further. 

”running away with you,” he breathes. ”anywhere at all. wherever you wanted to go, i’d follow.”

for a moment or two, all you can do is stare. 

you feel your lips part, but no sound comes out, nothing at all. suguru’s hair sways with the breeze, softly, and the light of the moon makes him look somewhat ethereal. like he could disappear if you blinked. 

the silence that blooms in the space between your words is fragile. precious, if a little overwhelming, as it stretches out before you — growing heavier with every passing second. so tender that it makes you feel sick to your stomach, as if the sound of the wind whistling could shatter it into pieces. 

(your heart aches, aches, aches.)

a weak laugh bubbles up from within your throat, something raw and tender hidden behind a veil of faux amusement. something vulnerable you're trying to cover up, like the glassiness of your eyes.

like a memory that never got to happen.

”what, so you’re saying we could’ve been by the seaside by now…?” you groan, forehead slumping against your knees with a bonk. ”what the hell, dude…” 

suguru lets out a chuckle, resting his jaw on the heel of his palm and looking down at you with a smile on his face. one that reaches his eyes, glimmering with something akin to starlight.

”we can still go there,” he consoles you, reaching over to tousle your hair with a palpable softness. ”to the seaside, i mean. i’ll take you.”

for a while, you don’t say anything. a pout plays at your lips, as you attempt to get your emotions under control. 

then you lean back, to lie down flat on the roof. the movement is so sudden that it stings a little when the back of your head meets the tiles, and you wince — a soft but exasperated murmur of careful comes from the boy on your left.

your elbows go to cushion your head, as you take in the immenseness of the sky. ”alright, then,” you hum. ”take me there sometime soon.”

suguru blinks. then his lips curl up. ”got it,” he chirps. mentally mapping out a nice spot, trying to remember the timetables at your local train station.

(next week, maybe. a picnic by the sea. he’ll make those sandwiches that you like.)

then he follows your lead, and goes to lie down on his back. right by your side, so close he can smell the fading scent of your shampoo, curled up right next to you. breathing out a sigh as he takes in the night sky in all its glory. 

there’s something tender, in the air. something that doesn’t need words. a kind of comfortable silence that you’ve learned to treasure, whenever suguru is with you.

so you simply stare at the dark veil over the city, in tandem with him — a pitch-black blanket sewn with stardust.

everything expands, before your very eyes; an infinite cosmos, with all the light you could ever want. the stars blink down at you, as if saying hello, mapping out the galaxy. you try to find the constellations you’re familiar with, the ones suguru have taught you about in the past, but nothing really comes to you.

it’s nice, though. just staring at the stars in wonder.

an exhale, as you breathe in, and then out. you part your lips to whisper, breaking the sleepy silence.

”the stars are so pretty….” 

suguru hums, the sound buzzing right by your ear. a soothing summer lullaby, that only you get to hear. ”yeah,” he whispers back.

a moment passes.

then you both part your lips to speak; smoothly, in a fashion that would be embarrassing if you didn’t feel so terribly safe in each other’s company. simultaneous, as the sentence tumbles from your throats.

”and so are you.”

silence. the seconds stretch on, and on. everything goes quiet.

you’re the first one to burst into laughter — deep, the kind that comes from the very bottom of your stomach. almost wheezing, as you try to catch your breath, arms snug around your shaking body. suguru follows close behind, trying to contain his laughter, but you can hear his little chuckles clear as day.

”eww, what the fuck?” you grin, shifting to lie on your side so you can get a good look at his face. ”you’re so corny!”

suguru snorts. ”i heard you say it too, dumbass.”

a little giggle flows from your lips, and you slump against his shoulder, still trying to control your breathing. suguru curls an arms around your midriff, bringing you closer. muscle memory, to make it more comfortable for you.

”haah…..”

the smile on your face shines brighter than the stars, suguru thinks, looking at you with a bleeding kind of fondness. as if you’re the only thing worth looking at.

”i hope things stay like this forever.”

the light of the moon shines down on the roof, bouncing off the white of your teeth. your canines shine in the dark as you grin, youthful — but there’s a sadness in your eyes, now. one that suguru will never fail to notice.

(one he’ll always yearn to smooth away, the same way his thumb always goes to wipe at any stray eyelashes on your skin, or crumbs at the corner of your mouth. muscle memory.)

”they will,” he assures you, reaching over to find your hand. enveloping it in his bigger one, cradling it, linking your fingers together and squeezing them softly. ”i’ll make sure that they do.”

a chuckle leaves your lips, but suguru thinks it sounds a little meek. like you still don’t believe him.

”i mean it,” he reiterates. more serious this time.

”i know,” you grin. ”but, i mean —”

a moment passes, and then your grin falters. ”you can’t promise that, though.” the expression on your face seems sort of pained, now, troubled by something. ”maybe we’ll move away from each other, or just drift apart, or —”

”that would never happen to us —”

”maybe you’ll meet someone.”

…

”a nice guy, or girl…” a sigh, as you run a hand through your hair. ”and then you’ll… i dunno. get married, i guess. and then eventually you’ll have kids, and buy a house, and —” 

a pause. in a smaller voice, you continue. almost childlike. ”you’ll leave me behind.”

suguru bites back a scoff. it takes concentrated effort. he turns to look at you, but you won’t meet his gaze, and a frown finds its way to his lips. ”… do you honestly think that’s what i want?”

another moment passes you by. more seconds lost, never to return. ”… isn’t it?”

suguru sighs, a little exasperated. maybe just a little hurt, too. ”marriage and kids aside…” he mutters, burning holes into your skin with his steadfast gaze. determined, self-assured. the tilt of his voice leaves no room for doubt. ”there’s only one person i love.”

resisting the temptation to keep your eyes away from him becomes nearly impossible — so you let your gaze trail over, and take him in. in all his glory, silky black hair framing his face, a soft look painted over his features. looking at you as if you matter, as if nothing matters except for you.

and again, something breaks out across the scope of his iris, a shooting star you don’t know what to do with. he looks so hopelessly sincere. 

for a second, all you can do is stare.

then you nod, solemnly. ”satoru, right?” you hum. ”you’re gonna break my heart if you keep bringing him up when we’re together, sugu.”

you don’t need to see his face to know that he’s giving you that unimpressed look, again. the suguru look. he rolls his eyes, and you bite your cheek to stop yourself from smiling.

”i love him too, but that’s different,” he huffs.

”how so?” you prod, eyes crinkling. but there’s something a little meek about the question. he notices it, of course, because what doesn’t suguru notice?

something soft curls around his features, and a hum buzzes in his throat. a heavy tenderness bleeds into his voice. ”i wouldn’t die for satoru,” he says, simply.

a moment passes.

”… you totally would.”

”huh?” suguru blinks. ”no, of course not. are you insane?”

”suguru,” you sigh. ”you are literally the most self-sacrificial bitch i’ve ever met —”

”well, obviously i’d take a bullet or two, but —”

”what do you mean obviously —”

”— you’re the only person i’d die for.”

suguru is smiling, now. amused, sincere. almost on the verge of laughter, the sweet and soft kind that always turns your heart into a puddle. his eyes almost seem to glimmer, in the night, and it’s all you can see for a while. as you try to gather your thoughts, get the right words out.

”… always so dramatic,” you murmur, at last, a little gruff. his smile grows. you shift a little more, lying on your side to face him with a serious expression. ”don’t tell satoru that, okay? he already has it out for me. at this rate he’ll kill me and steal you away.”

a chuckle rumbles through his chest, deep and fond. you continue, a frown tugging at your lips. ”… and i wouldn’t want you to die for me, anyway.”

suguru lets a giggle slip, a bit too sleepy to hold it back. ”mm, i know. but if it ever came down to it, then i still would.” he shifts, too, lying on his side to face you properly.

”to me,” he exhales, and he’s so close you can smell the mint off his breath — ”as long as you’re by my side, i can make it through absolutely anything.”

the smile on his face is boyish. all teeth and crow’s feet, blooming in the light of the moon, a flower just for you. it’s perfect, you think. you don’t want a single day to pass without you seeing it. 

”me too,” you mumble, linking your pinkies together. a silent promise. ”so don’t die. ever.”

suguru’s eyes soften. 

then he hums, absentmindedly. ”… well. i mean,” he clicks his tongue. ”eventually i will. that’s not really something i have a say in.”

a roll of your eyes. ”alright, smartass,” you scoff, and suguru’s eyes crinkle with humour. ”just don’t die before i do, then.”

a hand comes to touch your skin. and it’s sudden, warm, but you don’t flinch away. suguru smooths over your cheek with the back of his hand, seemingly unable to stop himself. soothing, as he exhales a soft breath.

”… i think i’d prefer that to the alternative, honestly,” he admits.

you furrow your brows, softly. a part of you wants to protest, to call him a selfish prick — for even thinking the thought of leaving you behind without a best friend.

but something in you knows he won’t budge, on this one.

(it’s childish, in a way. stubborn, for him to take a joking conversation so seriously. but suguru doesn’t think he could even jokingly suggest that he’d survive without you.)

”seriously, though,” his voice takes on a firmer tone. ”i wouldn’t leave you behind like that. it’s us we’re talking about. you and me.” 

he says the words like they’re undeniable — because they are. there is no him without you. that’s always been the case, hasn’t it? 

suguru stops to think. do you not feel the same? there’s still a crease between your brows, a sign of worry that’s impossible to dismiss. he can’t help but wonder just how long you’ve been thinking about this; how many nights have you spent sleepless, thinking of the future? of the possibility that it entails your parting?

(the thought makes him feel a little bit nauseous.)

”are you afraid that we’ll grow apart?” he asks, into the haze of the summer night. it resounds in the air around you, softly spoken, gentle but coaxing. almost pleading you to open up to him.

and it’s a stupid question, really. 

of course you are. it’s the only thought that really scares you.

time moves so, so fast — always leaving you behind. who’s to say that suguru won’t do the same? that he won’t be taken away from you, swept away by that flow? into the future, while you stay glued to the past — stuck on the roof of your childhood, while he moves on to better things?

the night sky is infinite. sometimes, on nights that are a little too long, when your mind has grown a little too muddled, you think of suguru as a star in that sky. blinking down at you, while you can do nothing but watch. hopelessly out of reach.

gaze trailing down to rest on suguru’s collarbone, you swallow the lump in your throat. a little too vulnerable to feel comfortable with looking into his eyes, afraid of what you’ll see in them.

but he’s patient. waiting, always waiting, for you to catch up. for as long as it takes.

”… of course i am,” you mutter, at last. a weak little thing. farther down the street, a car swooshes by, drowning the sound — but suguru still hears it clear as day. ”i mean, it’s just…”

a meek intake of breath. you blink, desperate to chase away the glassiness forming in your eyes. trying to grasp control over your wavering voice. ”even if you say that we won’t… it’s not like there’s any guarantee. you can’t know for sure.”

suguru wants to stop you, right there. wants to ensure you that he does know, that it’s the only thing he’ll ever know for sure. just that one fact; you and him. never one without the other.

wherever you’d go, he’d follow — that’s how it’s always been. that’s all he’ll ever need.

but he knows you. knows you better than he knows himself. and he knows that he needs to let you speak freely, without interruption, until you’ve gotten every last worry off your chest.

so he settles for simply looking at you, curled up and biting his lip to stop himself from speaking. wishing he could smooth away the moisture in your eyes, already — but the tears need to fall first. he knows it’ll make you feel better.

”i love you,” you whisper, and suguru’s heart claws its way up his throat. ”i love you, and i want to be with you forever — but…” a shaky inhale. ”but i can’t get rid of that fear. the idea of losing you… i just can’t deal with it.”

”don’t you think i feel exactly the same?” he cuts in, softly. 

a beat. you glance up at his face, for a split second, and then back down to his collarbone. a little fragile, curling into yourself as if hiding. ”i don’t know,” you sigh.

(suguru’s heart breaks.)

”i know that you love me too, and all. and i trust you. but…” you trail off, swallowing thickly. ”you already have your future planned out, and everything. maybe i just… don’t have a place in it.”

suguru scoffs, unable to bite back the sound any longer. it’s soft, but frustrated. ”there’ll always be a place for you in my future,” he vows. ”i wouldn’t accept anything less.”

you cower a little, under the warmth of his gaze. sweet, but stern. so distinctly suguru that it makes you falter.

”besides,” he clicks his tongue. ”i don’t need to follow the future that’s been planned out for me. i just need to be suguru.” a warm smile. ”right?”

at the sound of your own words, a light flush blooms on your skin. but for once, suguru isn’t teasing you.

”and you just need to be you,” he continues, arm still wrapped around your midriff. trailing up slowly, so that his hand can smooth over the back of your head. ”that’s all.”

”as long as both of us do that — we’ll always be together.” he looks into your eyes, and you think you spot a constellation inside his iris. ”won’t we?”

another moment of silence, the familiar comfort that settles between you. there’s no pressure to continue — but you do so, anyway. muddled mind still spinning, worried about this and that, despite suguru’s soothing words. 

a part of you can’t put your faith in that kind of future. one where the two of you are together, that you could envision so clearly when you were younger — when him and you was all that you knew for certain. it’s not as simple as it was back then.

(but another part of you desperately yearns for him to prove you wrong.)

”… but,” you mumble, shaky. ”what if it’s not that easy?” a chuckle pushes past your lips, humourless. ”i mean, you can’t possibly… always stay by my side, you know?”

there’s something childish, in the way you say it. like you’re still kids, and you’re whining for him not to leave you behind. selfish, in a way.

what right do you have to chain him to you?

suguru emits a hum. his eyelids flutter shut, for a few seconds — and then he opens them again. 

”… alright,” he drawls. ”let’s make a promise, then.”

confused, you glance up at him. he just smiles — responsible, dependable. your very best friend.

”have i ever broken a promise i made to you?” he asks, and you pause.

”… no,” you answer, hesitant. voice still a tad meek, a little helpless.

(and it’s true. not once has he broken one. when suguru makes a promise, he keeps it. you’ve always, always admired that about him.)

”right?” he grins, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. admiring your moon-lit features. ”so let’s do it.”

a frown tugs at your lips. furrowing your brows at him, your voice flows out, uncertain. ”promise… what, exactly?”

the moon glows, big and bright. hanging in the sky, a beacon of light, the same as it’s always been. suguru thinks you look radiant, under its illumination — even though you’re nervous, and a little teary eyed. just a single glance at your expression is enough to make his heartbeat soften.

you look like what home feels like. 

he could never bear to let that go, to let you go. his very best friend; the one thing in his past he has no qualms about. the one thing in his future worth hanging onto, cherishing fully. no matter what.

suguru parts his lips, smiling. he links your hands together. ”keep being you,” he implores, steadfast. ”and stay by my side.”

a moment passes. 

something crumbles, inside your chest. unable to break away from his gaze, all you can do is fall deeper into the hue of his eyes, crinkling softly — in the same way they always have. he squeezes your palm in his, tightly. a silent promise not to let you go.

— and then you realize something. the same realization that always comes to you, at the end of the day.

the man in front of you is just the same as the boy you met, all those years ago. the same boy who saw you climb over his fence, and let you pet his cat, and watched whisper of the heart with you even though he wanted to start with ponyo instead.

the same boy, always the same boy, no matter how much time passes. even though he’s all grown up now, features more defined. voice deeper and huskier. hands larger, with rougher skin.

he’s changed, just like you have — but he’s still just suguru. just that cool, sweet boy. a dorky guy who never, ever lets you fall too far behind.

a tremendous softness seeps through your veins. a kind of love, old and matured, carefully nurtured. the blinks you indulge in are slow, and your eyes shine with tears. it’s overwhelming, seeing him so up close, but you still can’t look away. he’s so beautiful it hurts.

”suguru…” is all you can sniffle, meekly.

your best friend is still smiling, fondly. wrapped up in you, as close as he can be. a familiar warmth, like a big fuzzy blanket draped over your shoulders; smelling of cedarwood and earl gray, and just a hint of coconut-scented shampoo. tailor-made just for you.

suguru never breaks his promises.

”but… you can’t,” you croak out, gasping as if searching for air. ”you don’t know if —”

”i do,” he cuts you off, gently. ”i do know.”

a breathless inhale of air, as you grasp tighter onto his nimble fingers. you feel meek, lost. not sure where to put your hands, or what to believe. ”how?” you ask, terribly fragile.

suguru takes a deep breath. oxygen enters his lungs, exiting as he breathes out. a soft flicker of life. his thumb goes to wipe away the stray tear that trickles down your cheek, his touch delicate. and then comes his response.

”— because i need you the way i need air.”

and, really, it’s a sappy thing to say. a little pretentious. he’d feel embarrassed if it wasn’t for the soft flicker of the moon, the intimacy of the moment. he simply couldn’t bear not to tell you the truth — even if you end up bringing it up tomorrow, just to tease him. he can deal with a little embarrassment, every once in a while. just for you.

fortunately for him, no thoughts of teasing run through your mind. maybe if you were in a better headspace, a little less of a wreck, you could muster the will to make fun of him a little. who do you think you are, shakespeare? i knew i shouldn’t have lent you that copy of romeo and juliet. — something light and amused, just to distract him from the rapid beating of your heart. 

but right now…

all you can do is take a deep breath. and you think you understand what he means, when that breath of life courses through your lungs.

”i’ll never leave you behind,” he continues, words so very self-assured that it leaves you reeling. rubbing comforting circles into the skin of your palm, without thinking. muscle memory. ”can you trust me on that?”

connected to his gaze, you stumble for something to say. anything. 

but then he smiles, again. that familiar, familiar smile. as soothing as a mother’s caress. and only one single word makes it past your lips.

”… okay.”

you do trust him. more than anyone else in the world. so you take that leap, no matter how frightening it is —

and the world narrows down to just the two of you.

just you, and him, in this one single moment. illuminated by the light of the moon, lying side by side and looking into each other’s eyes, on a roof you always find yourselves at one way or another. laughing and sharing secrets until the sun begins to rise; a silent promise that needs no words. 

(the promise of tomorrow. a summer that never quite seems to end.)

suguru cups your cheek. his touch buzzes with warmth, trickling down his wrist and through his veins — and you melt into his palm, eyes fluttering shut instinctively. the sight makes the corners of his lips curl up, hopelessly.

leaning close, he plants a kiss on your cheek. delicate, tender; his lips against your skin, a silent whisper of i love you. fervent, full of devotion. of a love that’s as steady as the sea.

”i’ll always, always be by your side,” suguru repeats, like a mantra. hoping you’ll feel his conviction through the whisper. ”you’ll always have me to fall back on. i promise.”

a little smile breaks out across your lips, meek and teary. as fragile as a sheet of glass, but still persisting in the dead of night. your voice wavers, as you raise your pinkie, right in front of his stupidly pretty face.

”pinkie promise?”

it’s a childish gesture. something to lighten the mood a little, make it all easier to chew. you expect him to roll his eyes, or raise an eyebrow, or tease you a bit. but he doesn’t.

instead, suguru raises his own pinkie, and curls it around yours. then he smiles. sweet and boyish, painted over with a rosy, tender nostalgia.

”— pinkie promise.”

and you believe him.

you believe him, because suguru has a way of making you do so, even when he has no idea what the hell he’s talking about. with that confident tilt of his voice, that makes it sound like he has all the answers in the universe — that flicker of genuine faith, in every word that falls from his lips, that tells you he truly does believe in them.

you believe him, because suguru is the only person in the world who’s never once broken a promise he made to you. not a single time. and some part of you suspects that if he ever did, he really would be okay with you cutting his pinkie off. a little frightening, the depths of his devotion. the pure loyalty that courses through his veins.

so you believe him.

you believe him because he’s suguru. and, just like you can't exist without him, he can't exist without you. never one without the other.

on instinct, you inch a little closer, wrapping your arms around his waist and squeezing him extra tight. face hidden away in the crook of his neck, just like you used to do when you were kids. he’s bigger now, harder to properly embrace — but still so very, very warm. 

and he squeezes you back, just as tight. comforting and grounding, and so, so secure. tugging you closer, like he needs to have you near to properly breathe. like he needs to feel that you’re there to relax, melting into the hug with a soft sigh. relieved, that you’re still with him. relieved at the promise that you always will be. 

wherever you go, he’ll follow. to the roof of his home, to the seaside, to the ends of the earth. the same way every star in the sky orbits around the center of the galaxy, endlessly, before burning out into the night.

the smell of cedarwood and earl gray floods your senses, filling your lungs as you nuzzle into his neck. he’s warm, and soft, and your very best friend. 

you close your eyes. indulging in his body heat, every familiar sensation that’s been etched into your bones for as long as you can remember. and you can tell he’s doing the same — breathing you in, arms resting securely around your back, pressing his cheek against the top of your head.

and maybe it’s true, after all. maybe suguru really does need you, just as much as you need him.

and maybe that’s all you really need to know.

the moon rests in the sky. smiling down at you, unchanging. a living proof that some things really do stay the same. 

— you hug suguru tighter, and decide that his presence is proof enough. 

[cloudcountry]

the burdens of royalty

Genre/Tropes: Established relationship, MC and Diavolo are married.

Summary: the weight of both the devildom and the human world are on your shoulders. if it wasn't for diavolo, you would have given up a long time ago.

Author's Comments: diavolo has a very tough job. every time he said he adores mc or that one time he confessed his love to them i panicked because thats so much. its heavier than the brother's "i love you" because hes ROYALTY and its a lot of take in.

i also find myself thinking about what his affection means for mc in the long run. i mean, surely diavolo has suitors. there are obviously higher up demons like the brothers (and maddi, that one witch that pursued diavolo so aggressively it was...icky.) for diavolo to actually pursue mc, i can't imagine what would happen when those same demons figured that out. if they were to make their relationship official or even get married, mc would probably need a bodyguard 24/7 because demons are OBVIOUSLY not chill with humans (like every single brother threatening mc and especially belphegor, although his circumstances were different because they involved lilith.)

anyways i'll be quiet, i hope you enjoy C:

~~~~~

It wasn’t easy being you.

Your now husband would always tell you that being him wasn’t easy, but now that you share the burden of his position, does that not also apply to you?

It came as quite a shock to the entire Devildom the day your engagement was announced—to think, the Prince of the Devildom, marrying a human! The demon aristocracy would have had your head if they weren’t so terrified of Barbatos. You were called many things (a manipulator and a cheat being among your favorites. Really, the higher ups in demon society would know too much about manipulating their way up the social ladder.) It was like they could comprehend that you just wanted to be with the man you loved, and that race and position and titles meant absolutely nothing to do with it.

If nothing else, you suppose being human was the easiest thing they could target. It shielded Diavolo from most of the backlash, at any rate. The last thing you ever wanted was for the public to lose their trust in him (and never give his ideals for the three realms a chance.) The fact that he only wanted the best for them seemed to fly right over their heads, as if Diavolo was just as untrustworthy as you, the foreign soul from another realm.

You, now their ruler, too.

But that’s exactly why you had to clench your teeth and bear it, bear the shimmering dresses and horned guests and Barbatos breathing down your neck so nobody would even think of attacking you. Snide remarks about your clothing of choice were met with “my husband picked it out, actually,” comments about how delicious your flesh smelled were ignored but met with a stern glare from your bodyguard, greetings that sounded so fake and that were obviously meant to butter you up were laughed at just as falsely.

Is this what it meant to be a royal?

“I apologize, My Liege. This ball runs til midnight. I assure you that you may retire to your chambers once this is over.” Barbatos whispers, strategically whisking you away from a group of demonesses muttering to each other and staring at you.

“Thank you.” you try to smile, but it probably seems like more of a wince than anything, “My feet are killing me. And the guests are just as bad.”

He smiles back sympathetically, and although he isn’t touching you at all, you can still feel the warmth emanating from him. Though the Avatars of Sin fear him, Barbatos has always been nothing but kind to you. You wonder if it has something to do with Diavolo, or if he really is that cruel. You suppose it doesn’t matter, whether you’re naive or not, because the fact of the matter is that you have the man Barbatos is loyal to encased in an eternal matrimonial vow. There is no way Barbatos would attempt to harm you.

“I will run you and My Lord a bath once this event is over.” he promises, and you can only sigh with relief when you notice he’s lead you outside, were the amount of people is nowhere near what it is inside, “Do you have a preference for which aromatherapy scent I use?”

“Use whichever one Diavolo chooses.” you reply, knowing he’ll be just as tired.

Barbatos laughs, a sound so full of mirth it makes you happy, too.

“I am sorry if that was out of line, My Liege. I was just amused by the coincidence. My Lord said to select whichever scent you would like.” Barbatos chuckles.

You find yourself laughing too, despite how nasty the demons around you treat you every time you hold one of these balls. It’s so sweet and considerate and just so Diavolo. You wish you could hug him right now and thank him for always trying to be a better man for you. He doesn’t seem like he will ever realize that he’s enough already, which simultaneously warms and breaks your heart.

He really thinks too highly of you. You’re not that special.

Barbatos leads you to a bench and gestures for you to sit. You do so without complaint, and before you can say anything he’s on his knees and massaging your calves. You feel yourself heating up in the face (because you still feel like he shouldn’t be doing these things for you), but you’ve learned a while ago that he takes pleasure in serving people. So you let him do his thing.

Part of your flustered state is also embarrassment, and despite your best efforts you cannot stop your eyes from darting around the gardens to check if anyone is paying attention to you. Thankfully, they all seem enraptured by an illusionist hired for the event who’s stationed in front of the grandiose fountain. He keeps making wispy demonic figures swallow running humanoid figures whole.

You’re used to this.

Another servant comes by, one by the name of Marie Anne. You know her well. Diavolo has always been very kind to her, offering her a life away from the downright cruel aristocratic family she had before. You don’t know the details, and you don’t ask. It’s not your place.

The demoness curtsies and smiles, offering you a bubbling glass of Demonus. It can’t get you drunk, but it can be refreshing. You take it and thank her. Her cheeks turn pink and she curtsies again before scurrying towards the crowd of demons watching the illusionist.

It’s funny how some demons could be so kind and others so nasty. There were many similarities that they have with humans, whether they wanted to admit it or not.

You tell Barbatos that he can stop now, and he halts his motions and stands up immediately. You’re still not used to being pampered in such a way, so you thank him. He only smiles and tells you it’s not necessary.

“I believe this is why the servants are taking a quick liking to you.” he muses, “I hardly think they would be this receptive if My Lord had married a witch or a member of the aristocracy.”

“You really think so?” you say, feeling your cheeks burn again from the praise, “I…I’m not doing anything special.”

“A simple thank you goes a long way, My Liege.” he hums, a content smile on his face as he stands beside you.

You suppose he’s right. After all, you’ve only heard (and seen, you think bitterly) terrible things about the aristocracy. They’re rude and impatient and only ever think about themselves when it comes to policies that affect the entire Devildom. If they didn’t fear Diavolo so much they surely would have attempted to overthrow him by now.

Too bad, you think smugly, staring at the insolent illusionist again as he makes a smokey human child scream at a demonic creature emerging from an equally smokey closet, He would destroy all of you if you even tried.

You feel immature for the thought only seconds later. You’re a ruler. You need to get your act together—you can’t be just as bad as them.

“My Liege, it’s almost time for the first official dance of the night.” Barbatos bows to you, swooping his hand gracefully towards the ballroom, “Would you like to reconvene with My Lord?”

“Please. I thought I would never get to see him tonight.” you groan, attempting to walk off the slight cramp in your calf as you follow Barbatos back into the fray.

The second your shoes hit the shiny flooring and make that click clack sound, there are shimmering eyes drawn to your form. They snap away as soon as they look, though, and whether it’s disgust or fear of Barbatos you don’t know. It doesn’t matter though, because finally you’ll get to see your beloved after he’s been mingling with the aristocracy all night. It isn’t hard to find him either, because amidst all the other clumps of beautiful demons you can clearly see an even bigger clump closer to the center.

You don’t even have to mumble awkward ”excuse me’s” as they all step aside for you (mostly for Barbatos though, as he’s leading the way and they’ve already made it plenty clear that they do not respect you) and before you know it, you’re standing in front of your beaming husband and a rather disgruntled Lucifer. He looks about as comfortable as you do in your formal wear, though he doesn’t show it. It’s too bad you know him well enough to see past his facade and pick up on all his little mannerisms he would never allow anyone else to see.

You spare him the teasing right now.

You try not to feel self conscious as you take your place by Diavolo’s side, a soft giggle leaving the lips of the demon you kiss goodnight every evening.

“Hello, my dear.” he whispers in your ear, stooping down to kiss your hand, “I’m pleased to see that you’re well. Have you been enjoying the festivities?”

Lie. Lie until you’re alone with him and can finally be yourself again.

“Yes, it's been lovely.” you lie through your teeth, a single drop of sweat sliding down the back of your neck as hundreds of pairs of eyes bore into you, “Barbatos has been most helpful. I’m incredibly thankful for him.”

Diavolo lights up like a little puppy dog at the mention of his butler’s name, and lets another loud laugh escape him. Despite his cheerful demeanor, you can still feel the hateful glares being directed your way. In the periphery of your vision, you can see Lucifer glaring right back at the demons behind you, and that gesture alone warms your heart. You are safe with these demons. Things will get better.

Even if better is in a few hours, when you and Diavolo will be in bed and he’ll spoon you and hold you tightly and whisper words of love and affection into your ear until you fall asleep. You discovered his habit for sleepy rambling relatively quickly after the wedding, and eventually you couldn’t sleep without it. If it wasn’t for his love, you surely never would have gotten this far with interrealm relations. If it had been anyone else, you would’ve given up.

Diavolo was the definition of shoot for the stars. He truly was an amazing demon.

“My dear.” he coos, eyes crinkling at the edges as he smiles that cheesy grin you know all too well and love far too much, “May I have this dance?”

He stretches a hand out for you to take, a symbol of how you two are bridging two realms together. Some of the people here tonight may think that’s the reason you two are doing this, that it's a diplomatic display to marry each other, but they’d be wrong. You know Diavolo isn’t the type to do something like that.

It’s like the demons in this palace tonight can’t understand that you two just love each other, and that's that.

And so you take his hand.

He sighs, a blissful sound that you know only you can produce from him, and sweeps you across the dance floor. His hand on your lower back is firm and unyielding, but it’s not possessive. Even when you were still living with the demon brothers, he never once overstepped any bounds.

Part of you wished he did.

It wasn’t just him that had wanted you two to spend time together.

You suppose that doesn’t matter anymore, not when his grip is so sure, not when his heartbeat is pounding in your ears as you rest your head against him, not when the demons and demonesses are moving out of your way. You know the respect is short lived and that they are only doing this for Diavolo, but that doesn’t stop you from enjoying it for now. Moments where a demon steps aside for a human are few and far between, but with you and Diavolo working together, you hope it will become more common.

“I love you.” you whisper to him, the words quiet enough so that only you two can hear them. You aren’t ready to declare such a vulnerable thing on your own, not when these demons have the strength to rip you apart.

And so Diavolo helps you, just as he always does.

“I love you more than anything.” he declares, his voice as loud as a blaring trumpet, a sharp contrast to your softness. You feel your face begin to burn, especially when you hear a murmur ripple through the crowd, but you cannot stop the wobbly smile on your face.

“Disgusting.”

“A human? Really? How will they rule us?”

“It would have been better if we stayed with our own kind.”

“What is Lord Diavolo doing?”

The ballroom begins to buzz and you feel yourself growing less and less sure of yourself. There are tears pricking your eyes, but you will them away. You cannot let them win.

And then, you see Diavolo’s form ripple. Wings sprout from his back and horns protrude from his head and there’s an uncharacteristically stern glare on his face as he fixes his malice at who you can only assume are the perpetrators.

You feel safe.

Maybe it’s a farce.

Maybe it’s make believe.

Maybe it’s temporary.

But Diavolo’s dream is possible, and you believe in him.

You just need to endure the burdens of royalty for him—the burdens he’s been bearing by himself for far too long.

[hobiebrownismygod]

My Favorite Underdog

Hobie Brown x Fem!Reader

TW: established relationship?? Hobie's not Spider-man in this, just some dude, cursing, something about domestic, no powers, underdog Hobie just has my heart I love it so much

___________________

You sat down at your desk one lonely night, scrolling through your phone in the dim light emanating from your table lamp. You were tired, but a few more minutes wouldn't hurt, right? You needed to relax, especially after such a stressful day at school.

The rain was pouring outside, making your room seem even toastier with the contrast between freezing cold and a blanket-covered warmth enough to make your head dizzy and your eyes droop.

The patter of raindrops on your window was loud enough to keep you awake though, loud enough that they sort of sounded like knocks.

Oh wait...they were knocks.

You glanced over at the window only for your quaint little moment of domesticity to be completely overturned by the sight of your boyfriend, soaked in blood and rainwater, feverishly tapping at your window in an attempt to be let in.

You practically leapt towards the window, pushing it open and pulling the poor man in while he coughed, ripping his mask off in one fell swoop. "Jesus, took you long enough to notice me-" he said snarkily, leaning against you while you shut the window again.

"What are you doing here? What happened?" You exclaimed, sitting him down on the bed. "Got into another fight." he shrugged nonchalantly, sitting up straight with a slight wince. "Not my best idea, considering that there were three of them."

"Three?" you exclaimed, grabbing your first aid kit (that you always had to keep on hand now thanks to him) from above your dresser and kneeling in front of him. "Are you bloody insane?"

"They wouldn't leave this poor bloke alone! Fucking threatening him like they were part of some gang- stupid wannabes" he scoffed, folding his arms over his chest, only for you to immediately shove them back to his sides so you could pull his shirt over his head.

"They got you good." you said, wincing as you ran your hands over the purple bruises lining his chest. "I don't think there's any internal bleeding, but these are gonna leave some nasty scars."

"Nice. I'll look even cooler shirtless." he said with a grin, leaning down towards you slightly. "What are you doing up at this hour? It's past midnight."

"You're in no position to make remarks about my choices." you replied, rolling your eyes at him as you began to bandage up the little cuts scraping his shoulders and back. He looked like he'd been dragged across the floor, which he probably was. Normally you'd ask, but he seemed like he was in enough pain already. "You can't keep getting into fights like this, 'Bie. You're gonna get yourself hurt."

"Yeah, yeah I know." he said annoyedly, leaning back. "I'm no superhero. I just- I don't know, seeing that poor kid getting bullied like that...I couldn't just stand by and watch!"

"I know, I know." you cooed, cupping his face gently so you could look over the bruises littering his skin. "Shame that you got your pretty face all messed up too."

He scowled teasingly. "I asked them specifically to leave my face alone." he said, smiling at you. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours before immediately pulling back with a hiss. "Damn. Hurts to even touch it." he muttered, raising a finger to gingerly pat the bruise on his face.

"I think I have ice." you said sympathetically, walking back over to the little mini fridge in your room where you kept ice packs, just in case he got into one of his little fights (which happened almost every day now).

He just grinned, his eyes raking over you appreciatively as you bundled up the little lump of ice in a plastic bag before plopping down on the bed next to him and pressing it to his cheek where the bruise was reddest.

"What did I do to deserve you?" he hummed, gazing at you with the most starstruck smile. "I think you have a concussion." you told him in an unamused tone, picking up his hand to make him hold the ice pack himself before checking the back of his head to see if there were any more wounds.

He nodded forward slightly to let you sift your hands through the thick hair on the back of his head, searching for any signs of blood. Nothing. "I think...you're good." you told him, glancing at his neck for good measure before letting him pull his head back.

"Thanks Doc." he said with a smile before taking his chance to lean in and kiss you. "Guess I owe you, huh?"

"Yeah, you've owed me for a long time." you scoffed, letting him push you down against the mattress while he kissed your cheek and jaw. "I don't expect you to start making up for it now."

"I could make up for it." he murmured, lips tracing against your skin as he pulled you up slightly. "Let me kiss you."

"You're gonna hurt yourself-" you protested, arms wrapping around his neck as he shifted his weight onto you again, large hands loosely holding your waist. He just smiled, shaking his head before kissing you once, twice, three times, never wanting to let go.

You could barely move with all his weight pressed down onto you like this, practically suffocating you in his arms. It always amazed you how someone so lanky could be so heavy. "Hobie-" You mumbled out against his lips as he kept pressing them against yours, hands cupping your face as he hovered over you. "Yeah?" he asked dazedly.

"You have to rest." you told him, putting a hand over his mouth when he opened it to protest. "I already know you're gonna get beat up more tomorrow, so just sleep, okay?" He scoffed, leaning back and plopping down onto his back. "Fine." he huffed.

He pulled you into his arms the moment you reappeared at his side and hugged you, laying back onto the pillow completely. "Stay here with me?" he asked, kissing your forehead.

"It's my bed, you twat" you scoffed, propping yourself up slightly to gaze down at him. "But yes. I'll stay with you tonight, baby." you added, voice softening slightly as you leaned down to kiss him, hair falling over your shoulder.

"I love you, you know that right?" he grinned, letting his head fall back as you slowly pulled your lips away from his, brushing your hair behind your ear. "I love you too, 'Bie."

You couldn't help but reach your hand out towards his face, pinching his cheek gently while his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "My little underdog." You cooed, kissing his cheek.

"I am not an underdog!" He protested with a huff, pushing your hand off his cheek and grabbing you by the waist again, leaning in for a real kiss. "So you don't like it when I call you baby?" You teased, cupping his face.

His gaze faltered slightly. "I do." he admitted, a wry smile on his face. "But there's a difference between calling me baby, and calling me an underdog." he said with a slight scoff. "You can call me baby."

"Yeah, cuz you're just a baby." You smiled, tapping his nose. "Oh, shut up." he muttered with a half-smile, pulling you into his arms. "I'm still bigger than you. And stronger."

You laughed, kissing his shoulder as he wrapped you into his arms. "I love you, 'Bie."

"I love you too."

__________________

Haven't written in a while, hopefully this broke my writer's block but who knows. Hopefully y'all enjoyed it!! <3

Taglist Link

Tags: @therealloopylupin2099 @spiderrinn @l0starl @daydreaming-en-pointe @itsparis-07 @vileviale @Bubble787635 @puff-hugs @d0ubl-tr0ubl3 @lauryn2558 @choccymilkdrinker @sunasslut69 @ask-1610-miles @axels-garden @eli21345 @miniaturesuitfox @spotconlon55 @riris-radioactive-panther @trash-panda-xoxo @0strawberrysorbet0 @preciousxsin @d3lux4ry @mikiyamarie @daphne00daiz @cumsluut @star-maker-rain-dancer

[cleo-fox]

As the Clock Strikes Midnight - Part VIII

Series Masterlist Chapter Summary: In which you lie to yourself. Chapter Warnings: Sex, p in v sex, dirty talk, praise kink, wall sex, semi-public sex, library sex, unrealistic refractory periods. Tag List: I don’t have a tag list for this fic, sorry! The best way to hear about updates is to follow me on Tumblr or subscribe to the fic on AO3.

You don’t know what this is and you don’t know how to navigate it. 

Every night from dusk to midnight, you are in his bed. He makes you no promises and you don’t ask him to. You tell yourself that it’s meaningless, harmless, a bit of fun.

You ignore the fact that most sensible people would not define bedding a prince as a harmless bit of fun. Especially not when you’re a servant. Especially not when there’s so much that you could lose.

You ignore the fact that the longer it goes on, the more the meaningless parts start to feel substantive, the more it nudges at something in the center of your chest.

You ignore it all because if you don’t, if you stop and think very carefully about it, that’s when you will realize that you’ve wandered too far down a path that you ought not to have taken in the first place and by that point, it will be too late.

It is getting late and you are trying very hard to keep your eyes open. Your head is resting on Loki’s chest, your ear pressed against his heartbeat. His fingers have been trailing up your spine and into your hair and back down again. It’s soothing and it also gives you chills—a pleasant contradiction, much like Loki himself.

“I must leave tomorrow,” he says suddenly. “I have business on Midgard.”

“Oh,” you say. You’re not really sure how to feel about that. You’re not really sure whether you’re supposed to feel anything about that. Probably not. “How long do you expect to be away?”

He sighs. “Two months, at least. Likely more.”

“Long enough to cause trouble, I imagine,” you say lightly. There is an unexpected lump in your throat, but you’re doing your best to ignore it. There’s no reason there should be a lump in your throat; therefore it does not exist. You repeat this to yourself confidently, like saying it more than once will make it true.

“Well, naturally.” He rolls over, pulling you with him so that you are on your back and pinned beneath him. “I am the god of mischief, after all.”

“I suppose you are.” You recognize that look in his eyes. “And what mischief are you planning now, your highness?”

He hums and presses a kiss against your collarbone. “The usual sort.” He is growing hard against your belly. “I must have you at least once more before I depart on my journey.”

Despite all your complicated and confusing feelings, your body is warming to his touch, that all too familiar aching need stirring in your hips. “Only once?” you say as you open your legs to him.

“I said at least once. Try to pay attention, darling.”

In the end, he has you twice more, though the last one is quicker than you’d like, motivated by the lateness of the hour. He helps you dress and delays you once more at the door with a long and lingering kiss that you will find yourself returning to many times over the next several weeks.

“I really must go,” you murmur against his lips. “I’ll be missed if I’m away much longer.”

“Surely another minute won’t hurt,” he says, lowering his head to nuzzle the place where your neck and shoulder meet.

“I’m afraid you underestimate the power of very nosy kitchen maids.”

“Well, we can’t have that. I shall speak to Fritjof about the staffing.”

You know he’s joking, but there’s still a flicker of fear that runs through you at the sound of Fritjof’s name. “You wouldn’t,” you say, forcing your voice to sound light and unbothered.

He laughs quietly. “You’re right. I avoid speaking to that old bat whenever I can.”

You are used to hiding your true feelings about Fritjof. “He’s particular,” you say.

“He’s abhorrent,” says Loki. “If I were king, he would be the first I’d release from service.”

You can’t help but feel a little relieved by this statement. Sometimes it’s easy to feel like Fritjof’s unpleasantness is all in your head, or even just an overreaction.

You can’t say any of this, though, so you keep your expression neutral and polite. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“I’m sure you do,” he says, a hint of a laugh evident in his voice. “You’re simply accustomed to being well-mannered about it.”

“I certainly wouldn’t say so if I was.”

He laughs quietly and runs a fingertip along your cheek. “I suppose not.”

There’s a beat of silence and the lateness of the hour strikes you once again. “I really must go,” you say.

“I know.” He looks at you carefully before leaning in to kiss you. It’s soft and gentle, almost tender in a way that makes you want to indulge in silly daydreams.

But the kiss ends, though his hand remains cupped against your cheek as he rests his forehead against yours. “I’ll send for you when I return,” he says.

You want to believe him, but there’s a part of you that’s afraid that this might be the end of your extraordinary little dalliance. Surely his attention will wander elsewhere once he returns. You hastily dismiss the thought and force what you hope is a believable smile.

“Safe travels, highness.”

You’re surprised by how immediately you feel Loki’s absence. 

It’s not just the sex, though you certainly miss that. You miss his company, his dry and sarcastic remarks, the way that his eyes light up when you say something sharp or clever. His smile, his quiet huff of laughter against your shoulder, the way his long fingers curl around yours. The way he listens, the way his brow furrows when he’s deep in thought.

You try very hard not to think about what any of that might mean.

You resume your clandestine trips to the library, but you find it’s hard not to think of Loki in a space that you associate so closely with him: here is a book that you know he likes, there is the chair he prefers. The memory of his kiss burns on your lips, the ghost of his touch seared into your skin like a tattoo.

Deep down, you know what this means, though you won’t admit it just yet. Not even to yourself.

The first few days are difficult, but after a few stumbling missteps, you slowly find your way back into the rhythm you found back before Loki upended your days.

You’re soon reminded, though, that these forbidden trips are not without their risks.

It’s only blind luck that saves you. You are coming back from the library, cutting across the dining hall to save time when you notice the lace on your boot has come undone. You bend down to tie it and it’s only then in the sudden silence that you hear footsteps approaching.

You draw back quickly into the shadows, pressing yourself flat against one of the large stone columns. From this vantage point, you can just see the doorway at the far end of the room.

A figure appears and your heart nearly flies out of your chest.

There in the flickering torchlight is Fritjof. 

You hold your breath as he crosses the room. It might be your imagination, but you would swear he looks more sinister in this light, with his beady eyes and the torchlight casting gloomy shadows across his face.

He’s a little past your column when he pauses, the sharp flare of his nostrils the only sign of life in his eerily still frame. Your heart is pounding so hard that you worry it might somehow give you away, impossible as it seems. He doesn’t know about the library, you tell yourself, willing it to be true. He doesn’t know I’m here.

His gaze sweeps over the room, his eyes squinting against the torchlight. The permanent line between his eyebrows deepens, almost as if he knows something is not quite right.

But finally, after a long moment, he seems to think better of it and continues on his way, footsteps echoing ominously in the large room.

You only let out your held breath when he leaves. You wait until his footsteps fade and then you make yourself count to one hundred before you tiptoe your way back to your room, your heart pounding the whole way.

If you were sensible, you would give up going to the library. You know that.

But with Loki gone, it’s the only thing you have to look forward to, and for that reason, you can’t quite convince yourself to give it up, though you do start taking a different route back.

And agonizingly slowly, those first four weeks pass.

On the first night of the fifth week, it occurs to you that you’re a little over halfway through. Assuming, of course, that it’s only two months and not longer like he thought it could be.

Assuming, of course, that he still wants you when he returns.

You decide that you’re not going to think about either possibility or the little blip of melancholy that creates strange tightness in your chest. It’s nothing. Nothing at all.

On the third night of the fifth week, you hear footsteps in the stacks.

It must be Fritjof.

You try not to panic as you set the book carefully on the shelf, listening intently. There was always part of you that knew that this was too risky to continue, that being discovered was always the inevitable conclusion. He’d nearly caught you once already, why didn’t you think this time would be different?

A voice comes from behind you. “And what business does a kitchen maid have in the palace library?”

There’s about a half second of terror before you realize that the voice is not Fritjof’s. 

It’s Loki’s.

Before you can turn around, strong arms are wrapping around your waist from behind, a broad chest pressing against your back. You relax almost instantly, your fear turning to something that you will later recognize as joy.

“You’re shaking,” he says, pressing a kiss against your neck.

“You frightened me half to death,” you say, your heart beating wildly, half from joy and half from fear. “I thought you were Fritjof.”

“Such grievous attacks on my character already?” he tuts against your neck, though you can feel him smiling. “Any sensible man would be offended by such a comparison.”

“He nearly caught me last week. And you’re much earlier than you said—I didn’t think to expect you.”

He presses a soft kiss against your neck. “Are you disappointed?”

“That depends on how churlish you intend to be,” you say.

He laughs and it only makes you ache for him. He turns you around and before you can get a proper look at him, he’s pulling you flush against him and kissing you deeply.

The restless, yearning ache that you’ve felt in your soul since he left finally stills when his lips touch yours. Kissing Loki feels like coming home—it feels so perfect, so right that it would scare you a little bit if there were room in your heart for any feeling other than joy.

It’s a minute or so later when he finally draws back just a little—only enough to speak. “Did you miss me?” he breathes against your lips.

Happy as you are, your first instinct is to deflect. You can’t be vulnerable. Not yet. “I would ask the same of you,” you say.

Instead of answering you directly, he presses his hips against yours so you can feel the hard length of him already straining at the confines of his trousers. You suck in a breath through your teeth.

“Now give me a proper answer,” he says, his voice dipping into a slight growl that awakens that familiar, aching heat low in your hips.

A shiver snakes up your spine. “Yes,” you say. “Very much.”

His eyes flash and suddenly he’s pressing you back against the shelf and kissing you deeply. Desperately. You arch against him as his hands palm your breasts before dropping to your hips to pull you closer still, close enough that you can’t help but feel the hard press of his cock against you.

He pulls away abruptly, grabbing you by the wrist and leading you deeper into the stacks.

“Where are we going?” There’s a breathy quality to your voice that you hope doesn’t reveal too much.

“You’ll see.”

His destination is a dark, secluded corner near a collection of atlases. Before you can ask more questions, he’s pressing you up against a wall and you realize with a thrill that he intends to have you right here in the library.

“We could be seen,” you say as he hitches up your skirts and hooks your leg up around his waist. But your voice lacks conviction and you can both hear it.

“It’s late and no one ever comes back here.” His hand slips between your thighs, pushing your undergarments aside. “And I need you now.”

It’s a thrilling admission made all the more compelling by his long fingers stroking your slick folds and circling your clit.

“Oh, you did miss me,” he breathes as he slides a finger inside of you. “My poor little kitchen maid, so slick and unsatisfied.”

You are aching and a whimper catches in the back of your throat as he presses the heel of his hand against your clit. You grab his shoulders as a second finger joins the first. “Please, I need—”

“What do you need?” he purrs as he curls his fingers. “Do you need to come before I fuck you into this wall?”

You nod, panting. “Please.”

He chuckles darkly. “Darling, you know that’s not good enough.”

Your clit is throbbing as you tense around his fingers. You’re so close and his time away has left you needy and desperate. “Make me come, Loki. Please.”

His grin is wicked. “Good girl.”

His eyes take on a particular kind of focus that you only ever see when he’s got you hot and bothered and chasing an orgasm. His fingers are fucking into you with a slow precision, the heel of his palm grinding against your throbbing clit, nudging you closer.

“You’re so close,” he says, looking at you hungrily. “I love it when you’re like this, all wild and wanton.” He licks his lips. “You’re going to have to be quiet, though. Can you do that, darling?”

You manage a nod, but barely. The leg that’s not hooked around his waist is trembling.

“I’ve got you, sweet,” he murmurs, his arm firmly squeezing your waist. “Let go. Come for me.”

Your breath is coming in quick, shallow bursts. The instruction to be quiet seemed doable at first, but the feeling that’s cresting inside of you is so much bigger and stronger than you thought. You’re not going to be able to keep quiet.

“Loki,” you gasp in the last few seconds. “I can’t—”

Somehow, he understands your meaning because he covers your mouth with his, muffling your cries as you come hard, your fingernails digging into his back as you shake so hard your leg threatens to give out.

He doesn’t stop kissing you until the last shudder pulses through you.

“Oh, that’s lovely,” he says reverently. “Just lovely.”

“Please—”

You don’t have to say any more. He fumbles with the fastenings on his trousers and frees his cock. There’s no teasing, no delay as he positions himself at your entrance—he wants you too badly to play his usual games, his desire heightened by your weeks apart. He slides into you easily, lifting you fully off the floor as he sheathes himself in you. You whimper and he sighs, mumbling a string of curses under his breath.

“Norns, I missed this,” he murmurs, leaning back in to kiss you.

If you’d planned things properly, you would be back in his room or somewhere private where you could be as loud as you needed to be. This reunion has awoken something primal and hungry in both of you and staying quiet is a struggle. His hips take up a quick pace, driving into you with a speed and force that speaks to the profound need that had brought you to the corner of the library in the first place. He quickly finds the angle that makes you see stars and soon enough, you’re trembling around him.

“You take my cock so well, darling,” he mumbles against your throat, teeth scraping against the tender skin. “So good for me, so tight.”

“I’m so close—”

“I know, lovely, I can feel you.” He presses his forehead against yours, emerald eyes intent. “Come with me,” he grits out.

You keep your eyes locked with his until the force of your orgasm tips your head back against the wall, your eyes fluttering shut as you clench around his cock. He is close behind, gasping out your name as he buries his face in your neck.

It’s a good minute or so before he withdraws, and he seems reluctant to do so. There is something decadent and scandalous about his spend dripping down the inside of your thigh, but you decide you rather like the feeling. It makes you feel like his in a very raw and primal way.

You try not to think about the fact that you have any desire to be his.

He takes your hands in his and a green light spreads over the two of you. When it dissipates, you find yourself in his chambers, in front of his bed.

“You couldn’t have done that earlier?” you ask.

“It requires some concentration and my mind was singularly occupied,” he says. “I can’t imagine that you would have been very pleased had we arrived in separate places.”

He is right, but you don't want to say as much.

“I’d thought that your skill with magic was too great for such silly mistakes,” you say instead.

“I see my absence has not blunted your tongue.”

You smirk. “I hope you didn’t expect it to. I could not bear for you to be disappointed.”

He chuckles. “Not at all.”

He kisses you again and it’s slow and intimate in a way you don’t expect, in a way that warms you from the inside out.

“I’ve quite forgotten what you look like in my bed,” he murmurs against your lips.

“I suppose I could remind you,” you say.

He kisses you once more. “Turn around.”

He undoes the buttons on the back of your dress with achingly slow precision, pressing soft kisses against the back of your neck and all along your shoulders and spine. Your dress and then your shift and undergarments fall to the floor until you are bare before him.

His fingertips lightly trail along your rib cage and under the curve of your breasts. You suck in a shaky breath. You’ve just had him, but you’re already aching for him again.

His thumbs brush against your nipples and a soft moan falls from your lips.

“You can’t possibly need me again so soon,” he says, but you can tell from the rasp in his voice that this is not one-sided in the slightest. “You’re still dripping with my seed.”

You arch your back so that your ass presses against the growing bulge in his trousers. “You speak as though I am the only one with such a need.”

He hums, pressing back against you. “Perhaps you’re not.”

You look over your shoulder. “Well, your highness?”

He laughs low in his throat, one hand sliding between your legs, gently circling your still sensitive clit. “And here I thought you would be too sated for such boldness.”

“Perhaps you’ll have to try harder this time.”

You’re immediately gratified by the feeling of his bare skin at your back and you barely suppress a shiver. Typically if he resorts to magic to remove his clothes, it ends quite enjoyably for you.

“Perhaps I’ll fuck the boldness right out of you,” he says, his voice growing dark in a way that makes the muscles of your cunt ache in anticipation. You bend at the waist, bracing your hands against the edge of the bed to support yourself as he drags his cock along your dripping folds. “You speak sharply now, but we both know that you turn into a whimpering mess the moment you have my cock in your tight and greedy cunt.”

Quite suddenly, he’s at your entrance and pressing into you, his passage eased by the heady combination of your slickness and his come from earlier. Your back arches and you push up on your tiptoes, trying to take him deeper.

You can’t quite help the sigh that escapes your lips, even though it causes him to chuckle because it proves his point. His fingers massage your clit and you shudder, letting out a soft moan.

“Oh, you’ll have to do better than that, darling,” he says. “It’s been weeks since I last heard you scream for me.”

You cast a glance over your shoulder. “Like I said, highness: you’ll just have to try harder.”

His eyes darken in a way that makes you shiver. “You’ve grown bolder in my absence, love.”

You smirk. “Then teach me a lesson.”

Your intention is to goad him into fucking you hard enough to make the ache of these last few weeks disappear. His wide, feral grin makes you think you might have succeeded.

“Well, darling,” he purrs, his hips snapping hard against you in a way that makes your toes curl, “if you insist.”

He slips easily into a brisk pace, his fingers rubbing languorously at your clit. The contrast between the two is enough to make you moan in a way that’s so so wanton it’s almost embarrassing. 

“Yes, I want to hear all of your lovely noises,” he purrs. “Let me hear how much you missed me.”

His slow pace on your clit is still at odds with the way he’s fucking you and it’s driving you absolutely wild. You’re only getting the added stimulation on every other thrust and while it feels good, it’s not helping you get any closer to coming.

You tolerate it for as long as you can stand, but eventually you can’t help but moan. “Please, Loki.”

“Please what, my love?” he asks and you can hear the smirk in his voice.

“More.”

He knows your body well enough at this point that he doesn’t have to ask what you mean—he simply begins massaging your clit in time with the thrust of his cock, making you keen.

“Like that?”

You can only moan in assent and he lets out a low chuckle as he continues with his new pace.

This is what you really needed, you think. His large hand firm on your hips, fingers on your clit, his movements just a little rough, his skin slapping against yours as he drives into you with hard and steady thrusts. You can feel the edge starting to approach, all of your muscles tingling and tensing in anticipation of your release. 

He knows your body well—too well, perhaps—and he recognizes how your muscles tighten and twitch around his cock right before you come undone.

And he stops, withdrawing from you completely. “Not yet,” he says.

The whine you let out is perhaps the most pathetic noise you’ve ever made in your life. “Loki, please.”

He turns you around, silencing your protests with a slow, deep kiss. “I need you closer,” he mumbles against your lips.

You let him guide you down onto the bed. While you like it when he takes you from behind, there’s an intimacy to having him on top of you. You can catalog his expressions, count the flecks of gold in his green eyes. You feel simultaneously as though you are perched on a cliff of great height and peering down, but also warm and safe.

It’s a feeling that you probably ought to interrogate; instead you push it from your mind.

He kisses you as he eases back into you and you wrap your legs around his waist, urging him closer.

He’s slow and gentle with you. You thought you wanted fast and rough, but this…this is an unexpected perfection. You can feel every inch of him stretching and stroking the velvety inner walls of your cunt and every movement is somehow better than the last.

The buildup is slow and unhurried, the opposite of the library, the opposite of how he’d been driving into you mere moments before. He looks deep into your eyes, interrupted only when your lashes or his flutter shut against the rising tides within you both. It’s stirring something in your heart and you find yourself wanting to tell him that you missed this, you missed him, but the words stick in your throat and you suppose that’s probably for the best because these sort of things shouldn’t be spoken aloud when you are a servant who is bedding a prince in secret.

You shouldn’t be thinking about this. Not now. Probably not ever. Instead, you draw your focus to the coil that is slowly winding in the pit of your stomach and roll your hips up to meet his slow thrusts. You pull him down to kiss you, hoping that his focus on taking you to your peak eclipses the fact that there’s far too much feeling in your kiss.

And moments later, your toes curl one last time and you cry out as you completely unravel. He groans deeply and gives two more sharp thrusts before he succumbs to his own bliss.

He gradually slows to a halt, dropping his head to your chest as he catches his breath. You close your eyes, relishing the feel of him on top of you, still pressed inside you, the feel of his sheets on your back. You missed this. You missed him. You—

You shouldn’t continue that thought. You shouldn’t admit to that feeling, even to yourself. It’s stupid. It’s dangerous.

Don’t say it. Don’t think it.

Loki gives a satisfied sigh, breaking you out of your thoughts. “The next time I say I need to be away for weeks at a time, tell me I’m a fool,” he mumbles.

“I’ll tell you you’re a fool regardless of your travel plans,” you say.

His laughter rumbling against your bare skin might be one of the best sounds in the world. “I would expect no less.”

He eases out of you, vanishing the mess and quickly pulling you to his side. You rest your head against his shoulder and wrap your arms around his chest, draping your leg across his stomach for good measure.

“Did it go well?” you say after a moment of quiet. “Your business on Midgard, I mean.”

He sighs. “It was tedious. I’d rather have stayed here.”

You wonder if he means here on Asgard or here in bed with you. You’re not foolish enough to ask, though you are foolish enough to hope.

“I think it sounds exciting,” you say. “I’ve never left Asgard.”

“I’ll take you, someday.”

The promise in those words—and their sheer impossibility—raises a lump in your throat. “I rather think that would be frowned upon,” you say lightly.

“All the more reason for it.” He strokes a hand along your thigh. “And how did you occupy yourself without my stimulating company?”

“Oh, nothing terribly exciting,” you say. “I started reading in the library again.”

“I suppose I have been monopolizing your evenings,” he says, fingers tickling your thigh. “Though I don’t understand why you don’t simply take a book to your quarters.”

You swat at his hand. “You know that’s not permitted.”

He catches your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. “Neither is this, technically.”

“Yes, well.” You clear your throat. “I’d rather not give anyone more reasons to look more closely at my evening activities for that reason.”

“Am I to understand that you prefer my bed to the finest Asgardian literature?”

“That may be your understanding, but that’s not what I said.”

“Well.” He presses a kiss against the top of your head. “I suppose I’ll have to make my bed more tempting, then.”

It’s the sort of offhand comment you write off as a silly flirtation—he doesn’t mean anything by it, surely. It’s entirely forgettable.

Except…the next night, there’s a stack of books for you beside his bed.

“What’s this?” you say, trying to ignore the lump in your throat.

“I told you I intended to make my bed more tempting,” he says.

His eyes are glittering with mischief, but the gesture itself is achingly sweet, one that plucks at your heartstrings and reminds you of all the feelings that you’re pretending you’re not having. He had retrieved the book you’d been reading last night, along with titles by authors you mentioned liking back in the garden so many weeks ago. 

That night, he makes you read aloud from a book of love poems while he buries his face between your thighs, his tongue moving in iambs and dactyls on your clit until you come with poetry and his name on your lips. In the afterglow, you curl up next to him and read while he does the same, until you need each other again. It’s a new part of your routine, one that you’ll repeat many times in the coming days.

It’s there in the hazy paradise between prose and the bliss of his touch that a small, secret voice inside of you begins to admit that as much as you say it’s a harmless bit of fun, the situation has spiraled out of control in the worst possible way:

You’ve fallen in love with him. And you know it’s only a matter of time before he breaks your heart.

Next chapter coming soon

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

Promise Me

ft Nanami Kento

A/N: Some Teen!Nanami angst! IDK why but I've been wanting to write this for a while. Header and dividers all credited at the bottom. Rating: 13+, fluffy-ish Warnings: Sadness, angst, mentions of death and dying Pairing: Teen! Nanami x Reader Summary: Faced with a solo mission, reader finds themselves contemplating their life in the Jujutsu world Word Count: 2301 Nanami masterlist

With trembling hands, you type out the text message. You’re aware it’s long, more like a letter but in that moment it felt like you would crumble if you didn’t get it all out into words. 

‘Hey Kento. I hope college is going well. You sounded happy when we last spoke. I hope you’re having fun with your friends.

Upper management has assigned me a solo mission. They said it's because they are confident my abilities have reached a stage where I can handle myself and also take down the curse. I know it's because there are no other sorcerers available to accompany me.

Anyway, it's a big step, which is why I called earlier but I know that you’re busy, so I figured I’d text you instead. I leave tomorrow morning. I’m just packing all my gear right now.

And I’ll probably have dinner with my friends tonight and try not to think about the mission. You know how I get when I start overthinking. It’s probably not as big a deal as I’m making it out to be, right? Students take on solo missions all the time.

I have no reason to be scared, right? Management would never assign me to a solo mission they believed was out of my depth, right? I just keep thinking about what it’s like, not having anyone with me. I’ll have to be at my sharpest, so I’m hoping to get a good night’s sleep. 

Call me if you can. Or if not today, then sometime tomorrow? I’ll probably be on the train most of the day but we can still talk. Let me know. I love you.’ 

You hit send and look at your half-packed bag. Each time you attempt to clear your mind, your thoughts threaten to eat you alive. You were terrified at the thought of this solo mission. When management had called you to brief you about it, you had waited for them to tell you who would be accompanying you. The dread that filled your stomach when they said you’d be going alone made you feel like you were carrying around a lead weight. 

This year had been rough. It was the year that Nanami had graduated from Jujutsu High, his college acceptance all arranged, as he readied himself to leave behind the world of sorcery for good. You had attended his graduation, the doting girlfriend, tears in your eyes at how proud you were of him, but also because you knew this meant you wouldn’t see him around here anymore. No more midnight walks, or studying for exams, sneaking into each other’s dorms for little kisses and reassuring hugs. You had never thought his being one year your senior would matter until he had shown you his acceptance letter. 

There was a sense of worry there too, because college meant he was going away from you, but he had held you so tightly, whispering this didn’t change anything. You were always going to be his girlfriend. He would make it work. He didn’t want anyone else. It had been a few months and the long distance was hard but it brought you more happiness than anything around here ever did. 

You continued to pack, glancing at the clock, unable to shake the jittery feeling from your body. It felt like there were a million butterflies in your stomach, and your heart kept pounding even though you didn’t leave for the mission until tomorrow. The innocent morning sun shone through your dorm window, uncaring about the turmoil inside you. You keep glancing at your phone, hoping Nanami will reply, but the screen remains blank. Phantom vibration syndrome kicked in at one point where you could’ve sworn you heard your phone vibrate, picking it up eagerly to check, only to see nothing new on the screen. Your heart sinks with disappointment each time. You knew his schedule and that he was probably in class. He would call you when he could. He’s never not called or at least texted.

As you sit down on your bed, the overwhelming gravity of the situation hits you. You were going alone. There was no backup. If you messed up on this mission…you squeeze your eyes shut. It was one thing if you failed to exorcise the curse. That in some way brought you relief. If you didn’t exorcise it, management would simply express their disappointment and send someone else. But what if…what if…you didn’t exorcise it and the curse…

You gasp, shaking your head violently, trying to rid yourself of the thoughts of death. No, it couldn’t happen that way. You couldn’t die. What you would’ve given in that moment, to not be a sorceress, but to be a normal teenager! To go dress shopping, and enjoy prom, to start writing your own college applications. To know that your life wasn’t in danger and that you would live, live to spend another day with your friends, live to see Nanami again…

Before you knew it, tears filled your eyes, spilling onto your cheeks, and you hugged your pillow tightly for comfort. You remembered how you had cried when Nanami left for missions, out of contact for days, barely sleeping until he sent you a text that his mission was completed and that he was coming back. You remember him training you, always working on your self-defense, making sure your reflexes were honed and sharp. You remember that even when you were sent with a partner, it sometimes didn’t change a thing.

Haibara’s death still hung heavily over everyone, and you think back to Nanami’s expression when he returned from that mission, his eyes dark and solemn, regret lined heavily on his face. It was so unfair, that at the age of 16, he had to endure that. Haibara had been so kind to you as well, the best kind of senpai anyone could have asked for. Nanami never allowed himself to be emotional in front of anyone but had broken down in your arms in the privacy of his dorm room. Neither of you slept well for days after that, often jerking awake in the middle of the night, immediately texting the other for comfort. 

You wondered if something happened to you, would Nanami break down the way he did for Haibara? Would it be equal? Would it be worse?

“Please reply,” you whisper, checking your phone again. Still nothing. Did he not care that you were being sent on a solo mission? Had he finally started to enjoy his life away from Jujutsu High that he wasn’t going to answer you anymore? Frustration fills you and you resist the urge to fling your phone across the room. You curl up into a ball and keep reminding yourself that he’d never play around with your feelings, that he was probably busy, and that he’d call you as soon as he could…

The day passes by in a haze. Still no word from Nanami. You try calling him again but it says he’s unreachable. It only alleviates your trepidation. Maybe he had forgotten you. College was a whole new world after all. You scream into your pillow, allowing self-pity to overtake you. No one understood. Your friends had advised you to break up with him before he broke up with you. That he would find someone else at college, that long-distance rarely ever worked out. 

You fall asleep on your bed in a blur of confusion, unable to ruminate about your situation anymore. 

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Nanami is out of breath as he hurdles through the corridors of Jujutsu High. A few students look at him in surprise and recognition, waving their hands at him as he races past, ignoring their greetings of ‘Nanami senpai!’. 

A solo mission…they had the nerve to send you on a solo mission…His breath had caught in his throat when he read your text, all other thoughts wiped blank. He’d immediately talked to his professors stating he had a family emergency and left hurriedly with nothing but his backpack. 

It took two trains to get here, one of which had gotten delayed. He couldn’t not see you before this mission, a damned solo mission, without reassuring you, without holding you tight after so many months apart. 

A left, a right, another left, then he halts in front of your dorm room and knocks softly. “Y/n?”

When you don’t open the door, he grips the handle, surprised to find it unlocked, and enters quietly. He sees you asleep on your bed, your bag set on the floor. A rush of relief and affection floods him as he sees you holding the little teddy bear he’d gifted you before leaving for college. 

‘Hold him when you miss me, yeah?’ He had said to you. You had immediately named it Teddymin, and he was currently tucked under your cheek as you slept uneasily. 

“Y/n,” Nanami says your name louder trying to rouse you, not wanting to scare you at seeing him in your dorm unexpectedly. You stir, then open bleary eyes. It was dark outside. Who was calling your name and why did it sound so familiar?

“Y/n.” Your eyes fly open and you quickly sit up, unable to believe it. 

“Kento?” You whisper his name disbelievingly, feeling tears well up in your eyes again. 

“I’m here.” He sits on the bed, drawing you close to him. You still can’t believe it. Were you dreaming? Was he really here? You grip his sleeve, hear his heartbeat, feel the warmth of his skin, and start crying unrestrainedly. All day, you had tried to keep it together, tried to convince your friends, convince yourself, that you had control over this. That you weren’t fazed about being assigned to a solo mission, that you were proud that management trusted you.

But Nanami’s presence breaks your composure, vulnerability showing through. “Why are you here?”

“Where else would I be?” he asks gently, patting your back. “I couldn’t focus in class, not after seeing your text. I’m sorry for not replying but I was basically catching trains all day to come see you.”

“You did that for me?” Your heart swells with love for him. 

“Of course. I just couldn’t…leave you alone, knowing you’re going on this mission by yourself. I had to see you.”

Silence falls between you both, listening to each other breathe. You wipe away your tears and take a steadying breath. Nanami hesitates, then asks, “Y/n, are you sure this is what you want to do? You graduate this year. You can leave all this behind.”

His words root themselves deeply in your mind and you find yourself considering it. Would it be possible to escape this? This unending cycle of fear for your life? “I don’t know. Everyone I know, everyone we know, is part of this. Could I just leave it all behind?”

“You can if you want to,” Nanami insists. “It’s hard, but trust me, it’s peaceful. I don’t want anything happening to you y/n. I’d never be able to forgive myself if I don’t give my best effort to get you away from here.” 

You know he means it, otherwise he wouldn’t have come all this way to see you. “You don’t have to make a decision now. We’ll talk about it after you get back from your mission.” He strokes your hair, reassuring you. 

“I will come back right?” There. You had asked the question that had been festering inside you all day. Nanami freezes when he hears you and his embrace tightens even more. 

“Of course you will. Why wouldn’t you?” He swallows, forcing himself to not think about any other answer to your question. After Haibara, he can’t take any more losses. He couldn’t lose you too. He’d break and probably never be made whole again. 

“I’m going to talk to Gojo. This will be your first and last solo mission.”

You wanted to protest but secretly, you’re relieved. “Would it work?”

“I can try. It’s reckless to send you without a partner.” He pulls away to frame your face in between his hands, heart breaking as he sees your look of apprehension. “Don’t worry. You will get back safely. I know your ability. You are a talented sorceress.”

Hearing his vote of confidence somehow carried more weight than management’s. “I really needed to hear that,” you say in a shaky voice. He embraces you again, gripping you so tightly it hurts but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him to stop. 

“You’ll come back. We’ll dance together at your prom. You’ll graduate. And I’ll make sure you never have to face something like this alone again.” He says all the things he wishes for you, wishes for both of you because honestly, he can’t imagine a future without you anymore. The conviction with which he says his words fortify you, and you finally manage to pull yourself into a better headspace. 

You wish he could accompany you on this mission, but understand that management could turn this into a cascade of litigation. He had disappointed a lot of people when he had left the school, and you couldn’t risk him using his abilities since he had forfeited his privilege to use them when he had surrendered his rank and title as a sorcerer. 

He presses a chaste kiss on the top of your head. “I love you. Promise to come back safely to me.”

“I will. I promise.”

Nanami doesn’t sleep for the next few nights. Finally, after 4 days, he sees the text message from you. 

I’m back.

It was only then that he allowed himself to break down and cry, not with grief like when Haibara died, but with relief that you had made it.

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